


Of Angry Gods and Broken Families

by MatleenaMaddie



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dream is a God and he is Mad, Family Dynamics, Fate & Destiny, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, No one really is, SleepyBoysInc - Freeform, They are not having a good time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28800672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatleenaMaddie/pseuds/MatleenaMaddie
Summary: Technoblade is a servant of the Blood God. He kills for Him. He spills blood for Him.So it doesn’t make sense when Phil tells him that they have angered another God. And that they will pay for it.It doesn’t make sense, because Dream is not his God.But Technoblade is a smart man. The Greeks knew the score, and so does he. He knows, the moment the words leave Phil’s lips, that they are in danger.Not just Phil and him.All of them.OR: Dream is a vengeful God, and Technoblade's family is destined to die.
Relationships: Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 69
Kudos: 188





	1. The curse

**Author's Note:**

> So I had one (1) conversation about the Lycomedes thing weeeeeeks ago and the question "Why doesn't Techno just resist his fate?" haunted me until this AU got written.  
> In other words, that one class about Sophocles I took years ago paid off because it taught me about the inescapable nature of divine punishments. 
> 
> The whole fic is pre-written; I'll do my best to post the chapters as regularly as possible (probably daily but life is Difficult)!
> 
> Also, big thanks to my friend Kim who gave me the peer-pressure I needed to get this written
> 
> That's it. Enjoy!

Technoblade is a servant of the Blood God. He kills for Him. He spills blood for Him.

So it doesn’t make sense when Phil tells him that they have angered another God. And that they will pay for it.

It doesn’t make sense, because Dream is not his God.

But Technoblade is a smart man. The Greeks knew the score, and so does he. He knows, the moment the words leave Phil’s lips, that they are in danger.

Not just Phil and him.

All of them.

***

The first time Phil told him about Dream, Techno refused to understand.

They had met in an isolated forest, the crinkle of the snow under their feet the only noise breaking the comfortable silence between them. Both men were wrapped in their blue cloaks, the color peaceful and calming and so far away from the actions they had taken. The crimes they had committed. The quiet in the forest was so far from the screams they had heard as they’d put the world to fire and the sword. The quiet was unusual, but Techno decided that he could get used to it. To quiet and to peace. But then, Phil had spoken.

He told Techno of Gods and anger, of heresy and punishment, of family and pain. And Techno refused to understand.

He was a servant of the Blood God. He had offered his sword to Him and Him only. He lived by His rules and would suffer His punishments. He owed nothing to  _ Dream _ , whoever that was. And besides, wasn’t Phil a sort of God?

Phil was Godly, in Technoblade’s eyes. Phil was the only man who had ever evoked fear - pure unadulterated terror - in the Piglin. Technoblade was the Blood God’s favorite, a mortal who could rival Gods, but he wasn’t Philza. Technoblade could command respect with a simple gesture of the hand and elicit horror the moment his fingers brushed his sword. And yet- And yet, everything fell short in comparison to the Angel of Death. 

Phil was normal - that was the most terrifying part. As normal as a human could be considering the pair of black wings on his back. But the wings solicited fascination, not fear. The feathers were soft to the touch and their appearance reassuring. Nothing like Technoblade’s massive build and the impressive tusks that had passerbys quickly turn their eyes, pretending not to have seen him. Phil was normal. Friendly looking. 

And yet, the moment Technoblade had first laid his eyes on the human, he had been shaken to his very core. Phil was young at the time, his blond hair tied back, his face still free of the beard he would start growing later, his wings not half the size of what they now were. His eyes had shone with kindness and concern and yet, Technoblade had been petrified. The usually belligerent Piglin had looked up to the human and felt  _ fear _ , real fear, for the first time in his life. The aura that radiated from Phil screamed pure power.

If Techno was a God’s servant, Phil was a God himself. 

He had to be.

Wasn’t he?

Phil’s answer to that question was a shake of the head and a laugh. Gentle, kind, and warm, like Phil’s laugh always was. But also nervous and fragile. And that was not normal. And the crack in the older man’s voice told Techno everything he needed to know. This was serious. Phil felt afraid, and the Phil he knew was never afraid. 

“But the wings?” Techno asked, struggling with the idea that his companion was not the powerful deity he had always pictured him to be.

“Dream gave them to me. I was his servant and so he rewarded me,” Phil explained. The calm in his voice contrasted so violently with the blizzard that was starting over the snowy plains. They would need to go seek shelter soon. But for now, the two men had to talk. They had to understand what they did. What they had condemned themselves to.

“So the Angel of Death shtick? Is that not a God’s name?”

“That’s what he calls me,” Phil replied, “That’s how I served him. He would tell me of mortals that wronged him, and I served justice for him.” Techno hummed. It was far from his service to the Blood God. Much more organized. Much more threatening.

They fell into a tense silence as they kept walking through the woods. Every few minutes, one of them strayed off the path to kill off a skeleton or a zombie. If they noticed how the monsters seemed more resistant, more aggressive, neither of them chose to voice it.

“So what happened?” Techno finally asked.

“The Empire,” Phil responded immediately. “The Antarctic Empire.” He gestured at their uniforms, and suddenly Techno felt out of place in the blue cloak. The tickling sensation of the fur against his neck was gone and, instead, he could have sworn that the fabric was burning through his skin. “It was his world to rule and we took it from him.” Techno opened and closed his mouth repeatedly.

The Empire had always been his idea. It was his love for challenges and his blood lust that had led him to suggesting the conquest to Phil. And the Blood God had little care for what His servants did, as long as they created chaos and sated His need for blood. Techno had never planned for another God to be watching. Especially not a jealous and possessive one.

“Tell him it was my idea,” the Piglin suggested, “That I forced you into it.” Phil shook his head.

“He knows better, Techno,” was the simple reply, in a tone that left no room for argument. The weariness in Phil’s voice was foreign to the Piglin, and it was  _ scary _ . As was the weight on the man’s shoulders. Phil looked older, more fragile, more… mortal. And Techno hated it. Phil was meant to have laughing eyes, warmth in his voice, and tenderness in his hands. Phil was meant to be  _ powerful _ . The only man Techno looked up to. A man who never died. A man who could flatten cities with a gesture of his hand and joke with his sons in the same afternoon. Phil was not meant to look frail and afraid. Techno could not allow it. Would not allow it.

So they left. They chose to go on separate ways and to flee from the lands they had put to fire and the sword. And they prayed that the jealous God would not follow them.

He didn’t follow them.

Instead, he went for their family.


	2. Staring God in the face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technoblade meets a God. Dream is a Dramatic Green Man. 
> 
> Still setting up, but our boys will be reunited pretty soon!
> 
> Enjoy!

When Tommy and Wilbur wrote him, desperately pleading for his help, Techno thought nothing of it. They had created a country, they said, and it had been stolen from them. They asked for his assistance in retrieving it.

Techno would like to pretend and say that he had hesitated. But really, he hadn’t.

The moment he saw the letter signed by his brothers, the Piglin had grabbed his weapons, stuffed a few potions in a bag, and he had departed.

It was because he was bored and wanted a challenge.

Nothing to do with loving his brothers.

So Techno joined Pogtopia. He placed torches around the ravine, made the stairs safer, planted crops, and collected weapons. He met with Wilbur to discuss plans of attack and strategies, carefully highlighting the risks and potential rewards of each ideas. He encouraged Tommy, pushing him to  _ get back up _ and  _ try again _ , and teaching him how to better hold his sword. He made Tommy a set of armor and begged Wilbur to at least carry a shield.

He was useful, and he was protecting his brothers.

He was keeping them safe.

Or at least he thought he was. Until he realized where they were. Or rather, whose lands they were settling in.

He received a letter, a few days after his arrival. An unsigned piece of paper that just contained a short invitation.

_ Technoblade, _

_ I have something for you. I will be waiting on top of the cliff East of L’Manberg. Come alone, at dawn. _

If the letter had finished there, Techno would have not hesitated a second before dropping it into the fire. It didn’t though. He had one last sentence that made Techno’s blood curdle.

_ Phil would want you to hear this. _

No one knew about Phil. No one except Tommy and Wilbur. And though Techno knew their love for pranks and jokes, he also knew that both men had changed quite a lot in the few years they had spent apart. Tommy’s grins were forced, and his laughs sounded fake. And Wilbur– Techno did not want to think about Wilbur. He could not recognize his brother.

He decided to go. The voices in his head screamed, trying to convince him to turn back and return to the ravine, but the Piglin had made up his mind. Whoever it was, they knew about Phil. And Techno hadn’t heard from his friend in years. Not since they had chosen to split up – it had been safer at the time, they knew, but Techno still regretted Phil’s absence.

So he left, a few minutes before dawn. He made sure that his brothers were asleep and safe before sneaking out of the ravine. He ignored the monsters that swarmed him, his entire being focused on the cliff and the silhouette on top of it. He knew he was putting himself in danger when he chose to give the mystery individual the higher ground. If, at any point, they chose to push him off, that would be it for him. And Technoblade was normally not a reckless man.

But they knew something about Phil, and Techno needed to know.

When he reached the summit, the sun was peaking out, and Techno had to squint to keep an eye on the silhouette. The glare of the sun gave the mystery person even more of an advantage. Techno felt himself unconsciously tighten his hold on his axe.

They were silent for a minute – Techno extremely tense and the other seemingly relaxed, hands fisted in a green cloak.

“Technoblade,” the man(?) eventually said, “I am so glad you came.”

Techno opened his mouth to answer – to utter a witty comeback or to ask a question about Phil’s whereabouts. He didn’t get the chance. Because before he could, the mystery individual raised a glove-covered hand, snapped his fingers, and the sun was suddenly hidden by another mass. Techno took a second to squint at the change. Was that the moon? How had he-? But the other cleared his throat, refocusing the Piglin’s attention on him.

And Techno saw the mask.

And his blood turned to ice.

“Dream-” he whispered in a choked-up voice - incredulous. He could not believe the sight. After years of isolation and fleeing, he had begun to think that the God had given up. Or that perhaps Phil had been mistaken in the first place. But there was no mistake to be made. Everything fit Phil’s description. Everything up to the way Dream tilted his head very slightly, as if he were observing Techno, like a cat watches a very interesting mouse.

Techno felt frozen in place.

Dream snapped again and Techno’s fingers loosened up of their own accord. The axe clattered on the floor.

“Technoblade,” the God repeated, “I am so glad you came.”

“What do you want with Phil?” Techno regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. But if there was one thing the Piglin was, it was loyal. And he needed to know if his friend was in danger.

“Nothing – for now,” Dream responded, his voice sounding almost bored, “I knew you wouldn’t come if I didn’t mention him.” He paused and moved a little closer to Techno, who had to repress an instinctive movement backward. “Do you know where he is? He’s escaped my senses and I do miss him quite a bit.” He hummed and Techno felt petrified. No hum should be this bloodcurdling. “He was a good servant. My favorite.” He looked up and Techno could  _ feel _ the God’s eyes bore into his – even behind the mask. “You stole him from me.”

Techno let out a choked-up sound and Dream looked away, moving toward the edge of the cliff. His step was light and relaxed – as if he hadn’t just threatened Techno. As if he hadn’t just destroyed his world.

“What- what do you want?” Techno managed to utter. The God visibly perked up when his new toy finally spoke.

“To help you, of course.” Techno felt lightheaded.

“To help… me?” he repeated.

“Well, all of you,” Dream clarified, “Pogtopia, I mean.” Techno felt the smile in the God’s voice as he continued. “I am on your side, but it must be from the shadows.”

Techno opened and closed his mouth helplessly, his mind reeling with the new information – desperately trying to make the pieces of the puzzle fit together.

“Why?” he blurted out. Dream’s voice was slow and condescending when he replied.

“Don’t ask question, Technoblade,” he ordered, “And take what is given to you.”

He snapped and Techno almost jumped when a chest appeared -filled with provisions and materials and maybe he could use those potions to better protect Tommy and–

“Your God doesn’t give you this kind of things, does he?” Dream asked, low, amused. Techno hesitated before shaking his head. Dream snorted and murmured something about ‘Minor Gods.’

“I don’t understand,” he tried again. None of this made sense. Phil had said that the God was angry. Furious. A jealous and possessive God who sought revenge from those who wronged him and played with  _ his _ world. Why was he helping them?

Dream nodded and Techno felt the God’s smile stretch behind his mask.

“I know you don’t,” he responded, his voice amused and patronizing. He moved a gloved hand toward Techno and the Piglin felt his entire body freeze when the God  _ touched him _ . The hand on his shoulder was so light, and yet it was the heaviest weight Techno had ever experienced. “Don’t worry about it, will you?” the deity suggested, and he very slowly squeezed Techno’s shoulder. His legs buckled and it took everything for Techno to stay standing.

Dream let go and Techno felt like he could breathe again. The God moved away, muttering a few words in an ancient tongue. In a blink, the moon disappeared from the sky, as if it had all been a product of the Piglin’s imagination.

He knew it wasn’t, though, because there was a chest in front of him, and a laughing God on the edge of the cliff.

“Oh, and Technoblade?” he called again, making Techno freeze in his spot once more, “Invite Philza, will you? This would make it so much more fun.”

A snap and the God was gone.

Techno’s knees gave up and he fell on the cold ground. He stayed there, at the summit of the cliff, until the sun was reaching its zenith. Only then, did he realize that his brothers needed him.

Techno stood up and got to work.

He needed to write a letter.


	3. Bargaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phil's here! And he is Not doing great (no one is).
> 
> Next chapter will be the Fall of L'Manberg :)
> 
> Enjoy!

The first words Phil pronounced when he saw Techno – after years away from each other, trying desperately to protect one another – were that of a worried father.

“Where is Wilbur?”

Techno shook his head. It was too late and he knew it, and he saw in Phil’s broken eyes that the older man knew it too. It didn’t stop the winged man from trying, though, and he stood a little taller, wings spread and bristled with indignation and anger, and with a parent’s fear. The form of fear that would allow him to do anything, even defy Gods. 

“I need to see him,” Phil tried, “I have to talk to him. I can–”

“Phil,” Techno interrupted in a firm voice. His red eyes caught Phil’s. “Phil, no.”

It was too late. They both knew it. Dream had taken him.

Wilbur was the first to suffer the vengeful God’s punishment. 

“Will’s rigged the entire city with explosives,” the Piglin continued, trying to ignore the way Phil tensed even more at the words – the way Phil seemed ready to bolt to go save his son. “He wants to go down with L’Manberg. Tommy’s trying to convince him to stay but he’s out of his depth.” He hesitated. “We all are.”

“ _ I _ ’m not,” Phil protested immediately, “I’m not, Techno. Let me see him, let me talk to him,  _ please _ .”

Techno shook his head, placing himself a bit more obviously in front of the door, using his massive stature to prevent the older man from trying to sneak through. It hurt him to place himself against his oldest friend, to use his physical strength as a threat to keep a father from his child. It hurt to see the betrayed expression in Phil’s eyes. But Techno knew that the vision of Wilbur – or what was left of him – would break Phil. And he would not allow his best friend to be broken.

“Phil, trust me,” he begged, “He is not himself. It’s…” He swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the lump in his throat when he spoke again, “You’re too late. We’re too late.”

“I have to- I have to take him home.”

“Home where, Phil?” Techno immediately responded, his voice a sudden roar as he let out years of pent-up distress, “He’ll follow us! He won’t let it go this easily! You know him. You  _ know _ he won’t.”

Phil’s face was a mixture of pain, and anger, and despair, and Techno wanted nothing more than to collect his oldest friend in his arms and protect him from everything that could hurt him.

But he knew he was helpless.

His strength, the Blood God’s gift, would not help him against a vindictive God.

He hated being helpless. He was not used to it. Technoblade was a servant of the Blood God and he lived by His teachings. He communicated with violence and solved problems by drawing blood. Survival of the fittest was the only rule he knew. And Technoblade was usually the fittest.

Not against a God, though.

He stared at Phil and guilt squeezed his stomach, almost choking him, when he saw the anguish in the blue eyes. The anguish of a father who knew that he was about to lose a son. Techno couldn’t bear the thought that he was partially responsible for his companion’s grief, that he had precipitated his family into this world of violence and vengeance. 

He let himself relax slightly, abandoning his threatening posture. He couldn’t - wouldn’t - hurt his best friend. And besides, he knew that Phil would not try to pass through. The older man let go of his sword, shoulders falling in defeat. His wings sagged sadly, and Techno felt guilt crush his chest. It was his fault. He hadn’t been able to stop Wilbur’s downfall. He had encouraged it, even, letting himself fall easily into the role of a servant of the Blood God. He had emboldened his brother, had repeated what the voices whispered in his mind. He’d demanded more blood, more destruction. And then, he had realized that it was all part of Dream’s plan. That he had been a pawn on the God’s board. And it was too late.

“I’m sorry, Phil,” the Piglin breathed and the older man simply gave a nod.

“I know, mate,” he whispered, “I know.”

At last, Phil opened his arms, and Techno fell into them instantly. He breathed in the smell of the ocean and the jungle and every territory Phil had explored during their years apart. Phil’s arms closed around him, and it should have been awkward when Techno was so much bigger and so much more powerful than the human, but instead it was  _ right _ . It was home.

“I’m sorry,” Techno murmured, his face hidden in Phil’s shoulder, “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…” He felt the other’s hand reach his head, fingers gently threading through his hair in an appeasing manner.

Techno was reminded of being younger and letting Phil’s hands play with his hair, brushing it tenderly and weaving the strands into a braid. He remembered them sitting together and Phil patiently showcasing the gestures, fingers moving dexterously in his own hair while Techno clumsily imitated him. He longed for the tenderness and innocence of those moments as apologies fell past his lips. 

“I know,” Phil said again, softly shushing him, “I know, Tech. It’s not your fault.”

But it was. Gods, Techno knew it was. He had riled up Phil and convinced him to join him in his base in the snow. He could have stopped there and simply built a life in the Antarctic. They had conquered one continent, was that not enough? He could have stopped there, but he had listened to his bloodlust and coerced Phil into taking more and more and more. Until they had it all. Until the world belonged to them.

Until they had committed a grave sin.

Techno knew it was his fault. He knew that he had brought the God’s wrath upon them. He knew it. But he chose to clench his eyes shut and believe Phil. Just for a minute.

Because the guilt was eating him alive, bit by bit, and there soon would be nothing remaining. 

And maybe, just for now, he had the right to lie to himself. To believe that they were safe together. That they would make it through.


	4. First loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First part of the Nov. 16th's happenings! We're going to progress slowly through the entire thing because Techno has a LOT to think about.
> 
> Hope you all stay sane during tomorrow's stream!
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

They knew they had lost when Dream’s victorious laughter was the only sound they could hear over the deafening explosions. Techno could barely see past the smoke and the fireworks but he could hear the coughs and the cries of disbelief. 

“L’Manberg?” “L’Manberg?” “L’Manberg!” 

Techno wanted to laugh and shout at the same time because these people focused on a stupid city being destroyed, unaware that they had all been pawns in a God’s cruel game. 

Techno’s voices screamed something completely different from the grieving L’Manbergians. They screamed a name. Tommy’s. 

_ Tommy. _

Techno’s head moved around wildly as the Piglin looked for his brother. He needed to find him, needed to keep him safe, because the God’s booming laughter was resonating in the ruins of L’Manberg, and Techno knew that the boy would be next. 

_ Tommy. _

He saw his youngest brother, petrified and holding a sword too heavy for his stature, body tense and his grip on the weapon  _ wrong _ , not like Techno had taught him in the hours they spent training in the ravine. And, worst of all, the blade was pointed directly at him. Techno knew that he would avoid the hit heavily, that he wouldn’t need to do much more than simply taking a step to the side. But the real wound would be knowing that his little brother had truly tried to kill him. 

He tried to not feel betrayed, tried not to feel hurt. He had no right too. After all, he had attacked their new nation. But he knew that Dream had cursed the land upon which they stood, and he knew that they had to leave. They had to  _ run _ before the God could take anything else from them.

Dream had already taken Wilbur.

_ Wilbur _ .

His neck almost cracked with the speed at which he moved his head to stare at the scene in front of him. The smoke had subsided enough for Techno to see what that would haunt him for years to come.

No.

_ No. _

He instinctively shielded Tommy with his body, putting his massive frame in front of him – his brother couldn’t see this.

His brother couldn’t see Wilbur coughing up blood, a demented smile on his face, and Phil’s panicked face, and Phil’s  _ deadly grip on a sword _ .

‘No,’ Techno wanted to scream, ‘No no no no.’

Phil had been the one to argue that they could fix him. That they could still save him.

They had spent nights arguing in hushed voices, Phil pleading with Techno, trying to think of solutions that became more and more abstract, more and more impossible, with each day that passed. Techno had shot them all down, feeling increasingly desperate as he failed to convince Phil of the futility of any rescuing efforts, as he failed to convince Phil that it was  _ too late _ . 

And now that Phil was clenching his hand around a sword with a resigned expression, readying himself to deal a deadly blow to his son, Techno regretted not having listened to the man’s pleas. 

Techno begged his oldest friend with his eyes. They could still do it, maybe – maybe – Dream’s hold upon the musician was not complete yet. Phil shook his head.

Techno’s scream died on his lips.

He felt, more than he saw, the blade pierce through Wilbur’s chest. He felt it because, for a moment (for an eternity) he was dying too. He couldn’t breathe. Everything around him was  _ pain _ and he couldn’t breathe and couldn’t hear and couldn’t move. His brother was dead and it was  _ his fault _ .

Tommy’s scream of pure pain and anger brought him out of his trance. Techno blinked away and he looked up to his best friend.

He saw Phil’s face, deformed by grief and  _ pain _ , and his hands coated in blood.

Phil’s hands were loving hands. Hands that held Tommy when the boy cried after a nightmare. Hands that clapped loudly after Wilbur finished a song. Hands that touched Techno’s shoulder and squeezed gently when the voices were too loud.

Hands that had stretched toward a small Piglin lost in the middle of a hellish dimension, and given him a family.

Hands meant to build, not destroy.

Phil’s hands were not meant to be coated in the blood of his first son.

Techno roared.

He thought of nothing but destruction and vengeance and death. His vision was completely red and his hold on his sword was tight and determined. He was ready for a fight - a fight to the death because he would avenge his brother and join him in the Afterlife. He wasn’t sure who the enemy was, but he knew that blood had to be spilt. 

He turned to the L’Manbergians, barely noticing the way they stepped away from him at the pure violence in his eyes. He was ready to slaughter them all, to make them suffer the way he was suffering. Because he was in so much pain, so he needed others to feel it. He raised his sword, a manic smile forcing its way to his lips at the fear in the L’Manbergians’ eyes. 

And then, he  _ felt _ Dream’s presence.

He completely froze and he turned toward Tommy.

Broken Tommy, lost Tommy. Tommy who was alone because of them. Tommy who was  _ cursed _ because of them. Tommy whom the God would take next. 

Tommy who was still holding a sword too heavy for him, pointing it at Techno, his hands - no, his entire body - trembling in fear. Tommy who wasn’t given a moment to grieve his brother before he had to fight for his life.

He looked back at Phil hoping – praying – that the older man would tell him what to do. But Phil was holding onto the body of his son like a lifeline, crying into the bloody chest, begging for forgiveness.

Techno swallowed thickly. Dream would not take Phil too. He would not take Phil, and he would not take Tommy. Techno would not let him.

This place was cursed, and so Techno was going to get them out of there.

Whether they wanted it or not.


	5. Striking Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is part two of the Nov. 16 events! Tommy is not Happy. 
> 
> Hope everyone had a good time with today's stream! How do we feel? Relieved or still worried? 
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

Techno did the unforgivable.

He summoned ancient beasts from the hellish dimension he was from and he wreaked havoc and destruction upon the ruins of the city his brothers had built.

He watched as the creatures of ash and bones rose from the ground and brought nothing but pain and destruction in their wake. He listened to the screams - of confusion, of anger, of fear - as the world crumbled around them. 

The Blood God laughed inside his head, loud and happy and  _ sated _ with the chaos His servant created. Dream paused and observed as desolation was brought to his lands. But Techno did not care what either God wanted, or thought, or did. There was only one thing that mattered, and it was to save his family.

The land was cursed and had brought the demise of his brother, and so Techno would destroy it. There would be nothing left of L’Manberg, of the city that ruined Wilbur, of the city that threatened to take Tommy too. And once L’Manberg was brought to  _ nothingness,  _ Techno would take his family and  _ run _ .

But Tommy refused to leave.

He crouched in a corner, muscles shaking with exhaustion, face covered in ash and dust, blood flowing freely from the wound on his leg, and he pointed a sword at Phil, snarling when the older man took a step forward.

“You killed him!”

The child’s voice was a mixture of pain, disbelief, and anger, and Techno could not say a word as Phil took a step backward, pressing a hand to his chest. Right where he had stabbed Wilbur.

“Toms, I–”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, you killed him!”

Phil clenched his eyes in an expression of agony.

“I know,” he whispered, “I know, Tommy, I know–”

“He was your son!”

Phil couldn’t even respond. Instead, his shoulder hunched as if he was somehow trying to protect himself from another blow, and Techno heard the man let out a low whine from the bottom of his throat.

“Tommy,” the Piglin said in a composed voice, “Tommy, that’s enough.” Tommy’s eyes flashed with fury.

“You have no rights to speak to me,” he hissed, “I will  _ not _ listen to you!”

“Tommy–” Techno tried.

“You are not my brother!” the boy spat. Techno felt coldness in his chest, gripping his heart and squeezing painfully, but he did not step back.

“Tommy, look at me,” he insisted.

“No!”

“Tommy, lower your weapon.”

“No! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!”

“Tommy,  _ please _ !”

That was Phil’s broken voice. A plea from the strongest man Techno knew. Techno looked between the two humans ( _ his family _ ), unsure what to do. He wanted to kill whoever had caused Phil’s voice to be so full of pain, but he also wanted to protect the trembling boy in front of him.

Phil crouched and approached slowly, his hands raised in front of him, palms facing the child. Techno held his breath. It looked like Phil was approaching a wounded wild animal rather than his own son. Tommy tightened his hold on the weapon – his knuckles going white – holding it a little higher, toward Phil’s face. Phil paid it no mind and continued moving forward. And then Tommy’s sword started shaking – lightly at first, but it soon became uncontrollable. The sword fell with a loud ‘clang’ and Tommy broke down sobbing in his father’s arms.

Phil held him there, tightly, wrapping his wings around the boy, as if to shield him from any malevolent eyes. Techno just stayed there, immobile, his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to destroy anyone who would touch his family. Even a God.

He looked as his best friend’s blood-covered hands rubbed soothing circles into his son’s back, and heard the murmurs of calming words and promises that were meant for the two of them alone. He looked and promised that he would die to protect them.

The moment, like every good moment, did not last.

Eventually, Tommy stood up, quiet and subdued, and  _ not Tommy _ . He faltered a little as he took a step forward and, when he felt Phil’s hand immediately come to stabilize him, he shrugged it off. He didn’t spare his father a look. Techno was watching Phil, though, and he almost wished he hadn’t, because the heartbreak on the older man’s face was unbearable.

Tommy didn’t look at either of them. His gaze was far, far away, and neither of the two men knew what to do.

“I want to go home,” the child eventually said, his voice hoarse and tired from crying. Phil opened his mouth.

They all thought of the home they had shared years ago - it seemed like a different lifetime now. They thought of the warmth in the chimney, they thought of Tommy’s laugh in the stairs, they thought of Wilbur’s singing voice, they thought of the fondness in Techno’s eyes, they thought of Phil holding them three safely between his wings. They thought of family. 

They remembered sitting together while Wilbur was playing his guitar, Techno humming a rhythm, and Tommy inventing nonsensical lyrics. They remembered Phil’s fond smile as he observed it all, proud of the family they had formed. It was home.  _ They _ were home.

This wasn’t the home Tommy wanted.

“– to Tubbo,” Tommy completed, and Techno would have destroyed a city and sacrificed all of its inhabitants if it could take the pain off of Phil’s face. It wouldn’t though. Destruction only sated the Blood God. It would not console a grieving father.

“To L’Manberg,” Tommy continued in a quiet voice. “L’Manberg’s my home.”

Techno heard Phil let out a sob. If Tommy heard it, he chose not to react.

“Tommy-” the Piglin tried.

“No,” the boy said, and his calm and resigned voice was so much more terrifying than the angry screams from earlier. “No. I don’t want you there, Technoblade. I want you far away.”

“Tommy–”

“Far. Away,” Tommy repeated, his teeth gritted, and his voice determined.

Techno threw a look at Phil, at his best friend’s grim, tear-stricken face, and he nodded.

“All right.”


	6. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is our second meeting with Dream! Still a very ominous and dramatic green being.  
> And Techno's anger is growing little by little...
> 
> Enjoy!

He didn’t leave immediately, though. He didn’t leave because, first, he needed to see his brother. He needed to find his brother’s corpse, apologize, and take it far, far away. Far from the land that destroyed him. Far from the God who killed him.

Phil hadn’t killed Wilbur, Techno knew that. Dream had gotten there first. All Phil had done was ending the suffering Dream had caused. Phil had freed his son from the absolute nightmare Dream had thrown him in.

Now if only Phil would believe that.

Instead, the older man was crouched near the body of his son, repeating apologies and goodbyes that were interrupted by heart-wrenching hiccups.

Technoblade would burn the whole world down if it meant he would never have to hear Phil cry again. Phil was not meant to cry. Phil was meant to laugh, his gentle, warm, and happy laugh that resonated in the house and that, sometimes, was contagious enough to bring a genuine smile on the Piglin’s lips.

He wanted to tell him. To tell his friend – his best friend – that he would do everything in his power to prevent him from ever shedding a tear. But he knew that was the wrong thing to say. So instead he stood quietly while a grieving father said his last goodbyes.

They had decided that Phil would stay with Tommy. It made more sense. Phil could work on calming him down and gently moving toward convincing him to eventually leave with them. They needed to take Tommy away from L’Manberg, but they needed to do it with Tommy’s consent. If they took Tommy by force, they would just be inviting Dream to follow them. So they needed to calm him down. And if someone could do it, Techno knew that it would be Phil. 

In the meantime, Techno would take Wilbur and seek shelter somewhere deserted and untouched. Somewhere Dream wouldn’t look. He would give Wilbur the worthy burial he deserved and he would allow himself a few days to mourn. Then, he would recuperate, regain his strength, and prepare for another battle. 

It would work. It  _ had _ to work.

It was all they had not to fall into despair. 

Still, it meant that Techno had to watch as Phil broke down, holding the body of his son and begging for a forgiveness he would never receive.

Phil’s face was hidden in the crook of Wilbur’s shoulder, not minding the smell of the dried blood, so he didn’t see when the God appeared. Techno did.

The moment he saw the green cloak, he had a hand on his weapon, ready to strike. Dream turned his head toward him, tilting it ever so slightly as if he were observing the Piglin with interest. Like a snake wondering when to strike. Techno made to take a step forward.

He was unable to. His eyes widened in panic and he tried to shout for Phil. Again, his mouth refused to obey him. The God moved a gloved hand to his mask, pressing his index finger to his mouth in a shushing motion. Techno wanted to scream. He was completely petrified, forced only to observe as the God approached his best friend.

Dream crouched near the older man and put a hand in Phil’s dirty hair. The human jumped in surprise before turning, the shout dying on his lips when he saw the white mask. Phil’s face turned inhumanly pale as he stared at the deity that had ruled his word. 

“Oh, Phil,” the God crooned in a gentle voice, “Poor, poor mortals. They break so easily…” He let go of Phil’s hair and shifted a little to observe Wilbur’s body. Techno hissed dangerously from his spot in the room. He wanted the God  _ away from his brother _ .

“You used to break them for me,” Dream commented, his voice silky and dangerous, “Remember?” Phil’s expression was nothing but pure fear and he shook his head in despair. “You don’t?” the God continued, pretending not to understand, “I thought you would. You took such joy in destroying their spirit in my name.”

“Please…” Phil whispered, his voice hoarse from crying.

“This one, though,” Dream continued nonchalantly, “He was strong-willed. It took me a long time to break him.” He lets out a small irritated sound. “I miss having you by my side. It made it easier. More pleasant.”

Phil trembled, his eyes wide in terror and he shook his head lightly, as if to beg the deity not to continue. Dream tilted his head and let out a small cooing sound. He raised a gloved hand and used his thumb to gently wipe Phil’s tears off his cheeks.

“I didn’t have to be like this,” he chided in a soft voice, “You know it. I’ve always let you keep your mortals.”

Phil let out a sob. When Dream continued, he looked up to Techno, who snarled at him.

“ _ He _ took you, though. And you two took  _ my _ toy.” Phil went to respond, and Dream shook his head. The winged man immediately closed his mouth, obeying the silent order.

“You knew that wasn’t allowed, didn’t you?”

Phil nodded, broken, and he looked up at the God with a begging expression.

“Please, my Lord.”

Techno wanted to break something. Anything. Phil was  _ not allowed _ to sound so broken and look so defeated. Not on his watch. Not when Phil was the strongest man he knew. Not when Phil was the best man he knew. 

Dream hummed in thought and he tilted his head ever so slightly, allowing his former servant to continue.

“Well?”

“Please,” Phil whispered, looking down in respect, “Please, I beg you. I’ll- I’ll come back to you, my Lord. Please- Please take me. Let them live.”

Techno was roaring internally, every muscle in his body aching for a fight. Phil would not sacrifice himself. Over his dead body.

Dream seemed to agree, though, because he laughed – a terrifying sound that made Techno’s blood curdle – and he shook his head.

“Oh, Phil,” he tutted with an amused tone, “It’s not that easy.”

Phil’s shoulders slumped in defeat and Techno had never wanted to  _ Kill  _ so much in his life. Even if Gods were immortal. He would destroy the deity’s corporeal envelope and chase its spirit forever, not giving it a chance to ever so much as  _ look _ at Phil again.

Then, Dream continued:

“But I am merciful, Angel of Death,” he said, reaching for Phil’s wings, ignoring his flinch, and petting the feathers in a fond manner. “I will give him back.”

Phil looked up to stare at the God in disbelief. Something in Techno broke when he noticed that a light had faded from his best friend’s eyes.

“Wh- How?”

Dream stood back up, removing his hand from Phil’s wings.

“Go back to the ravine,” he instructed, “He will be there.”

Phil could not say a word and even Techno was left completely dumbfounded by the words. This made no sense. He and Phil had sinned. They had committed a crime against a God, and so they were being punished. And so was everyone they cared for. It did not make sense.

It did not make sense.

“Oh, but be warned,” the deity continued, “I have changed him a little.” He laughed and Techno’s insides turned upside down. “This will be so much fun.”

A snap and the God was gone.

Techno did not waste a second. As soon as he was able to move, he was by Phil’s side, collecting the sobbing man in his arms. And, as he held his best friend tightly, he swore to every divinity in existence that he would die to protect him.


	7. Poisoned gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh, I almost forgot to publish this chapter today. My apologies!
> 
> Here is what Dream left them of Wilbur! Not great, to say the least.   
> This is also Techno's last time in L'Manberg before his self-imposed exile. Let's see how that goes for him.
> 
> Enjoy!

Dream had changed Wilbur – and Techno wanted,  _ needed _ , to find out how to kill Gods. How to destroy them. Because he couldn’t deal with the pain on Phil’s face.

Dream had given them back Wilbur, but it wasn’t  _ Wilbur _ .

It wasn’t Wilbur.

Wilbur was loud and happy and teasing. Wilbur was dramatic - annoyingly so - and sometimes selfish, but he deeply cared for his family. Wilbur was the gentle voice that hummed a comforting song when Techno had come down with a cold once. Wilbur was the laughing eyes as Wilbur pouted after another one of their “arguments.” Wilbur was the strong hand on Phil’s shoulder, promising that he would take care of Tommy while he and Techno were away. 

_ This _ wasn’t Wilbur. 

Whatever the thing was, it wasn’t Wilbur.

It called itself Ghostbur and Phil had laughed when he heard the name. He had laughed because, if he hadn’t, he would have cried.

But Wilbur – Ghostbur – was smiling, bright and happy, and it was the most heartbreaking thing Techno had ever seen. It wasn’t the Wilbur from the previous weeks and it wasn’t Wilbur from their childhood. His smile was  _ wrong,  _ and heartbreaking. 

More heartbreaking, maybe, was the way Phil wrapped his arms around his son – the shell of his son – and hugged. Tight. As if the ghost would disappear if Phil let go of him. Phil’s shoulders shook while Ghostbur hummed peacefully, returning the embrace. The ghost’s hold was light, almost nonexistent, and his eyes were oh so empty. 

Techno hated the hollowness in his brother’s eyes.

“I like hugs,” the ghost said, “I like your hugs, Phil. But…” – he pulled away – “You shouldn’t cry.”

Phil’s sobs redoubled in intensity and Techno felt like he had been the one to be stabbed by Phil’s sword. This must have been what Wilbur had felt when a sword had pierced through his chest. The impossibility to breathe. The hot, blinding pain that took away everything else, that overwhelmed his senses until all he could do was await the ineluctable arrival of death. 

Techno couldn’t die yet, though. He couldn’t because the Blood God wouldn’t permit it, and he couldn’t because Phil needed him. 

He hesitated before speaking. Anything to distract Phil from the pain he was feeling.

“Wi- Ghostbur. What happened?”

The ghost shrugged, as if nothing was too important.

“Well, Phil killed me, and then I was in a black place. There was nothing.” Techno frowned. That couldn’t be. Not in a world of Gods. There was an Afterlife, he knew it. There was an Afterlife for all of them, one where they would be judged for the way they had behaved for the duration of their mortal lives. There was Something. 

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Ghostbur repeated, “No vision, no sound, no emotions. Nothing. Awfully boring, if you ask me. So I came back.”

“You… came back.”

That wasn’t a choice he should have had, and Techno knew that. He knew that Dream had orchestrated it all, and he was seething with rage at the idea that the God had planned all of this to hurt his former servant.

Dream had ripped Phil’s son from his arms, only to give him back broken and  _ wrong _ . This was a punishment much worse than death, and both Phil and Techno knew it.

Dream’s punishment was well underway.

Ghostbur tilted his head and pressed a pale hand to Phil’s face.

“You’re all dusty,” he noted in a gentle voice, “You should take a bath, Phil.”

“Yeah, that’s from the explosion,” Phil responded in the voice he had used for Wilbur when he was a child. Techno tried not to let that detail hurt him.

“The explosion?” Ghostbur responded with a frown, “What explosion?” Techno blinked.

“Are you joking, Ghostbur?”

The ghost made a confused expression.

“No? What are you talking about?”

Techno closed his eyes. That was what Dream had meant. He had  _ changed  _ him. He had truly changed him.

Phil and Techno looked at each other, panicked. Who knew what Dream had done? Had he made Ghostbur into a puppet that only he could control? A puppet who would come to Tommy with a friendly smile and would destroy him from the inside?

After what seemed like hours of conversation, they figured it out. Ghostbur was not a danger. He was  _ in  _ danger. Dream had removed every last negative memory from Wilbur’s brain. He’d essentially made the once brilliant war strategist into a harmless child. Into a vulnerable child. They’d asked him what he remembered of Dream.

“He is my friend, isn’t he?” Wilbur had said, “We’ve laughed together, I remember that.”

Phil had flinched and Techno had sworn to himself that he would be the first mortal to take down a God. Because Dream had caused so much pain and he needed to pay for it.

The pain on Phil’s face at that declaration had been nothing compared to the words that had followed.

“Hey, Phil, is that my sword?” the ghost had asked innocently. Techno had watched as all colors drained from his best friend’s face and they all turned their eyes onto the bloody sword.

The blood had dried; no one hadn’t thought to clean it. It stained the blade with the remainder of what Phil had done to his son. 

“Your sword?” the older man had repeated, his voice weak – the question itself already a plea for Wilbur not to continue.

“Yeah! The sword you killed me with.”

Technoblade wanted to kill a God.

Dream had taken all negative memories from Wilbur but one. He hadn’t erased the feeling of a blade stabbing through his chest, the hot tears falling from one face to another, the desperate pleas of a grieving father.

And he had made Wilbur think that it was good. That Wilbur had deserved it all and that Phil had served justice when he had dealt the deadly blow. 

Techno took a look at Phil’s shaking shoulders as the man held the ghost of his son to his chest, begging for forgiveness, and he made a decision.

Dream would not touch his family again.


	8. Bargaining, pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting into the exile arc, with a little reminder that Phil is actually Very Badass. 
> 
> Enjoy!

‘ _ He took him _ .’

Those were the words that shattered Techno's hopes.

Written on a scrap of paper attached to a black feather Techno recognized instantly. Phil's wings. It had been a long time since they had used the enchanted aspect of the feathers to share messages. Since the Antarctic Empire time. He was glad the enchantment still worked and had allowed Phil to reach him, even in his complete isolation in the tundra.

But Techno couldn't focus on the medium of communication. He had to focus on the content.

He knew who ‘him’ was, and worse, he knew who ‘He’ was.

What he didn't know was how, and when, and why, and where.

And what to do.

So he met with Phil.

They met in Phil’s house in L’Manberg, silent and worried. Techno watched as Phil closed all of the curtains and locked the front door several times, hands shaking as he made sure that he was keeping his friend safe. The house was plunged into darkness and deadly quiet, as if both inhabitants were trying to pretend that the building was deserted.

They both knew that, if Dream wanted to enter, to interrupt their reunion and taunt them, he would. They chose not to voice it.

Techno caught his best friend’s eyes and let the older man fall in his arms. He held him tightly to his chest, seething with rage.

“Where is he?” he asked, voice firm and unwavering. Phil pulled back from the embrace and let out a long sigh, moving to the table where he had laid a map of the lands. Dream’s lands.

“Ghostbur followed him into exile,” he said before pointing a finger on the map, “He said that they settled camp right there.”

It was an inconsequential island, Techno thought. A shore that had probably been deserted for years, visited only by the locals from the nearby village. An area too small to be threatening and too resource-poor to be worth invading. A few years back, both he and Philza would have flattened it all in a matter of minutes.

It wasn’t an inconsequential island, though, because it was where Tommy had sought refuge.

It was where Technoblade would go and retrieve his brother.

“We’re going now, Phil.”

“No.”

A blink.

“No?”

Phil shook his head and closed his eyes, moving away from the map. He looked older, Techno noticed. Older and wearier. Worried wrinkles had appeared on his forehead and Techno  _ hated _ to be reminded of his friend’s mortality. For as long as he was there, no harm would come to Phil, Techno promised himself.

“He will kill him if he sees us.”

It was incredible, the way both men understood the pronouns without having to pronounce a single name. The way their minds worked at once, both focused on one major objective: Tommy’s safety.

They had different ways to achieve it, though, and Techno hated that he couldn’t rush into combat and take his brother back. The voices were screaming with pleas and orders for the Piglin to disregard his best friend and  _ leave _ and go collect the annoying child that the voices had claimed as being under their protection. 

“Did he say that?” he asked carefully. Had Dream actually said that, should they try to save Tommy, he would be murdered in front of their eyes? Phil shook his head and sat down heavily.

“No.” There was a ‘but’ left unsaid and Techno just waited for the man to continue. “I know he will.”

Techno hated it, but he knew that Phil understood Dream more than he did. Phil had served the God. He knew him, he knew his behavior and his motives. He could read him much better than Techno ever would. 

If Phil was worried enough about his son’s safety to forego a rescuing mission, things were serious. Techno hated it, but he chose to trust Phil. He shited, the wooden floor cracking lightly, and turned his eyes to the ancient combatant.

“So what do we do?” Phil grimaced.

“We wait. We hope.”

Technoblade hated waiting and he hated having to rely on hope. Especially when the safety of his family was concerned. The voices inside his head screamed for blood and Techno thought of indulging them. He didn’t.

“There’s nothing else we can do?”

Phil stared at him and, for a fraction of a second, Techno was reminded of how just how strong the man was. How experienced. How dangerous. Philza Minecraft was not just a grieving father, he was the Angel of Death. The one who had flattened cities with a movement of his hand. The one who used to kill for his or his God’s amusement. The one who had brought hundreds of nations to their knees and carried the Antarctic Empire to its age of glory.

Philza Minecraft was powerful and Technoblade felt a shiver of fear run through his body at the intensity in the winged man’s eyes.

“We wait,” he repeated, voice firm, “It’s a trap, Techno. I won’t allow you to walk into it.”

“I’m strong, Phil,” the Piglin protested, refusing to let the man dictate his behavior.

“So am I,” Phil’s response was final “I’m strong too.” There was a ‘but’ that resonated between them once more. They were strong, but not strong enough to take on a God. “We wait.”

“What about Tommy?”

Phil sighed and the determination in his posture faltered for an instant. Techno watched as the Angel of Death shifted back into a worried father.

“Tommy is strong, Techno,” he eventually said, as if he were trying to convince himself rather than Techno, “Strong-willed. He has gotten it from you.”

“I am not responsible for how stubborn the brat is.” Phil smiled and refused to take the bait and move the conversation onto a lighter tone.

“You are. He admired that from you. Your determination. The fact that you never gave up. Always got back up.” Techno grimaced.

“You’re a sap, Phil.” Phil shrugged.

“He told me about it, you know? When you were out training, hours after sundown. He watched you and he tried to learn from you. You were his model.” He chuckled. “He’ll never admit it, of course. He is much too proud. Another thing he got from you.”

Techno didn’t respond so Phil stood up and walked to him, gently collecting the Piglin into a safe embrace. Techno was far too tall for Phil to completely hold him but the arms that wrapped around his waist were enough to tell Techno that his best friend was there. That even if the world crumbled around them, they had each other.

“He’ll be okay, Techno. Your brother is strong.”

Techno prayed that Phil was right.


	9. Second Loss (And Hope)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one, but finally a Soft one! Take all the fluff while you can, though.
> 
> Also, I have decided that canon was a suggestion so the Butcher Army plot does not take place in this AU. Techno just woke up and found Tommy on a Normal Day.
> 
> Enjoy!!

Phil hadn’t been right.

Techno looked at the wreck of the child that used to be his brother and cursed himself out. He shouldn’t have listened. He should have bolted out of Phil’s house the moment he knew the location where the God was keeping his brother. Instead he had  _ waited _ . And now he had to face the consequences of his actions.

From his spot on the couch, face illuminated by the dancing flames in the chimney, Tommy looked so small. Young and broken. A child soldier who should never have been given a weapon.

Techno wanted to find whoever had handed his baby brother a weapon and kill them. He knew that wouldn’t work, though, because the culprit was already dead.

And the master puppeteer was an untouchable God.

“Are you- are you hungry?” he asked in his gruff tone that was laced with concern.

Tommy’s eyes met his and Techno briefly wondered if they had always been so faded. So… not blue. The boy shook his head silently and Techno furrowed his eyebrows.

“Toms, you’re all skin and bone,” he tried. Tommy looked away, focusing his eyes on the flames again.

“Not hungry…” he mumbled, and Techno’s heart dropped at the hoarseness of his brother’s voice.

“Toms…” he insisted in a gentle voice – the way Phil would when Wilbur or Tommy refused to go to bed past sundown.

“Drop it, Techno,” the child asked – pleaded – and Techno let out a long sigh. He would. For now.

“Fine,” the Piglin said, “But I’m not happy about it, Tommy.”

Techno regretted the words the moment he pronounced them. Tommy completely tensed and froze in a defensive position. A low whine made its way from his throat and past his lips.

“I’m sorry,” the child whispered hurriedly, eyes clenched in fear, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t– Please don’t hurt me.”

Techno stopped breathing.

“Hurt you?” he repeated. His brother didn’t move. “Tommy, ‘hurt you’?”

The voices screamed in his head and Techno almost reached to grab Tommy’s shoulders and shake.

“Tommy, look at me,” he insisted, “ _ Hurt you _ ?”

Tommy very slowly unclenched his fists and opened his eyes, boring them into Techno’s. They were faded and dull and–  _ Focus on the child _ , the voices said.

“It- It doesn’t matter, Techno,” Tommy whispered. The Piglin’s jaw fell open in shock.

“Of course it does!” Techno roared, “He  _ hurt you _ !”

Tommy yelped and scrambled away from Techno, curling up on himself in the corner of the couch. Techno felt like he had been stabbed through the chest. He wanted to stab himself through the chest. He deserved it, for making his brother look so afraid  _ of him _ .

Techno cursed inwardly. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this. Tommy didn’t need him, didn’t need his strength, his anger, and his gruffness. Tommy needed Phil’s gentle voice and his calming smile.

Phil wasn’t there, though. Techno was the only thing Tommy had.

He kneeled on the ground in front of his brother, trying to make himself look smaller and less threatening than he was.

“Tommy?” he called, desperately wishing that he could make himself emulate the soft tone in Phil’s voice. He sounded rough and dangerous and his voice was rumbling with promises of revenge. He knew this wasn’t what Tommy needed, but he didn’t know how to be anything else. He didn’t know how to be gentle and comforting like Phil. It would have to do.

“Tommy,” he called again, “Tommy, look at me…”

The trembling boy was immobile for another long second before he moved his head to meet Techno’s eyes. Techno tried to give a comforting smile, praying that his tusks weren’t making him look like a predator instead. Tommy’s eyes widened slightly but he didn’t move, staring carefully at the Piglin.

Techno took it as a good sign.

“I won’t let you get hurt,” Techno swore, “Tommy, I won’t let him touch you again.” Tommy looked conflicted, biting at his lips worriedly.

“He’s my friend…”

The pain in Techno’s chest was unbearable. He needed to find the God, and he needed to  _ make him pay _ .

“Tommy, he isn’t your friend…” he tried in a low voice. A rumble that was promising violence. Tommy flinched.

“But he- He’s the only one who came…” Techno shook his head.

“He didn’t have your best interests at heart, trust me.” A small flame of anger appeared in Tommy’s eyes and Techno almost sobbed in relief at the sight.

“Because you did?” Techno opened his mouth, but the boy continued before he could respond. “You destroyed L’Manberg. Phil killed Will. You all left me alone!”

The guilt in Techno’s chest started to turn to anger. A low rumbling anger which started to burn him from the inside. What had Dream done? Had the God weaved himself into Tommy’s mind, the same way he had Wilbur’s? 

“Toms…”

“No! You all left me!”

“Tommy…”

“Shut up shut up shut up!”

Techno frowned at the way Tommy’s breath accelerated, his chest starting to heave far too quickly.

“Tommy,” he called hurriedly, feeling a tingle of panic run through his chest when the boy shook his head. He regretted Phil’s absence as he looked at the way his brother started choking on his breath. The voices screamed in his head, preventing him from focusing on any coherent thought. “Tommy!”

The boy just kept hyperventilating on his couch and Techno didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say- He was made for violence, for fighting, for battles. He could slay his enemies and sacrifice them to the Blood God.

He couldn’t comfort a crying child.

He tried to think of what Phil would do and acted before he could convince himself otherwise. He wrapped his arms around Tommy, holding him tightly to his chest.

Some of the voices screamed, reminding him that he shouldn’t touch someone in the middle of a panic attack. It was too late, though, and Techno kept holding onto his little brother, not reacting when Tommy started yelling and hitting at his chest. If that was what would bring Tommy out of his panic, he would take it.

Tommy kept struggling for a few minutes before dissolving into tears, his arms dropping by his side uselessly. Techno held him tighter.

Tommy was so small, Techno thought as he kept his arms around the trembling boy. Small and fragile. And the God had almost taken him.

“You’re safe,” he whispered, his face in Tommy’s dirty blond hair, mouth brushing against the strands, “You’re safe. I’ll keep you safe.”


	10. Fighting a God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, finally! Things are getting Spicy!   
> Now that we've finally set up all the background we can finally get to the Fighting Gods part of this AU.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

The third time Technoblade faced a God, he did not step back.

He couldn’t let Dream know that he was afraid.

He looked right at the deity, his hand on the hilt of his sword, his entire body tense as he prepared for battle.

“Leave.”

The God let out another of his bloodcurdling laughs and Techno repressed a shudder.

“You can’t give orders to a God, Technoblade,” Dream chided, as if the entire scene was just amusing to him. He snapped and the doors and windows of the cabin slammed open. “Stand down.” Techno tightened his hold on his sword.

“If you take another step forward, we will find out if Gods can die.”

Dream stared at him for a second before he stepped back. Techno felt some vindicated satisfaction for a fraction of a second before the God laughed.

It wasn’t the terrifying chuckle Techno had somewhat become used to. It was a frank, loud laugh that made Dream throw his head backward. The God brought a finger under his mask to wipe a tear and he turned his attention back to Techno. The temperature dropped.

“You think you can take me, Technoblade?” he asked in a dangerous whisper. “You think you can stop me from taking him back if I want to?”

Techno’s fists tightened around the sword, his knuckles whitening with the pressure.

“I can try,” he growled. Dream’s head tilted as he were observing a particularly interesting prey. The God snapped once, and the doors and windows slammed shut. Another snap and both men were transported to a snowy plain. A worried look around informed Techno that the God had taken them away from his cabin – just close enough for them to see the smoke from the chimney.

“You want to try, Technoblade?” Dream asked in a velvet voice. Calm and sweet and yet so, so terrifying. Techno hated the way his name rolled on the God’s lips. He turned his attention to the deity as an axe appeared out of nowhere. Dream played with it for a few seconds, as if he were weighing the object in his hand. He eventually gave a small nod and raised his head.

The God’s voice was far too happy and ferocious when he spoke again: “Then try.”

Techno wasn’t sure who made the first move, but they were suddenly face to face, the metal of the sword clanking against the axe. Dream laughed, loud and happy, and he swung his axe, sending Techno backward. The body of the Piglin slammed against a mountain with enough force to make the ground tremble and Dream  _ laughed _ . Techno used the few seconds it took the God to teleport next to him to regret his decision.

He had met many worthy opponents and had always come out victor. He had never lost a fight. But there was a first time for everything and maybe this fight would be one.

Dream appeared next to him and grasped his chin, forcing him to meet maniac eyes.

“Come on, Technoblade. Don’t give up after the first strike. Give me a challenge.”

Techno’s arms trembled as he gripped the hilt of his sword and stroke. Dream avoided easily and the laugh that followed was elated and crazy.

Techno would not win the fight; he knew it. But if he could land a hit on the God, if he could draw blood, he would consider it a victory.

When Techno fell on the ground, several minutes – an eternity – later, he took Dream’s slightly heaving chest as a victory.

His blood trickled on the snow, slowly painting it red, and the Piglin regretted not having a mask to hide the pain on his face. Dream’s head tilted in the same way he had the first time they had met.

“You’re going to bleed out on the snow, Technoblade,” he stated in an almost bored tone, “An ironic end for a servant of the Blood God.” The smile grew in his voice. “Rather pathetic.”

Techno spat on the ground.

“I could go take your precious brother, now,” the God continued, his voice gentle and teasing, “And there’s not a  _ thing _ you could do about it.”

Techno closed his eyes to prevent Dream from reading the panic in his eyes. It seemed that the God managed to do so, however, because he let out a long laugh.

“But you know what would be more entertaining, Blade?”

“Don’t call me that,” Techno growled, glaring at Dream from the ground.

“You’re in no position to make demands,” the deity replied tranquilly, not at all affected by the threat in the Piglin’s voice.

Techno tried to get back to his feet, moaning in pain at the movement. Dream chuckled and shook his head.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he advised, “You will just make your death more imminent.” He sat down near the man as he continued. “It’s a shame. You were a good opponent.”

Techno reached for one of the daggers he kept under his cloak and swung. Dream dodged easily and he grasped the Piglin’s wrist, squeezing until Techno let out a scream and dropped the weapon.

“Not a very smart move, Technoblade,” Dream scolded in an amused voice, “Besides, the fight is over, now.” He reached to take the knife, observing it nonchalantly. “Now… you didn’t let me finish.”

Techno glared. He looked towards the cabin, hoping that Tommy had run off when he heard the commotion.

“You know what would be entertaining, Technoblade?”

Techno shook his head mutely and Dream laughed, delighted he got an answer out of the Piglin.

“Imagine how Phil would feel if his best friend murdered his son…” the God mused. Techno gritted his teeth.

“Never,” he growled, “I will die before it happens.” The deity chuckled.

“You shouldn’t speak in absolutes,” he warned – still in his gentle voice, “You cannot predict the future. Something could happen. You know Greek myths, don’t you? Shall I remind you of Lycomedes? Surely you knew what rescuing your brother out of exile and hiding him from me would bring...” His voice became dangerous, excited, “Would you throw your brother down a cliff, Technoblade?”

“Never,” Techno repeated. Dream laughed.

“Something could happen,” he sang.

“Fuck off,” the Piglin spat. He winced in pain at the effort of speaking. “Phil will kill me before I hurt Tommy.”

Dream was silent for a second before he let out a small intrigued chuckle. 

“I haven’t thought of that possibility,” he hummed, “It would be very entertaining, though. To see the Angel of Death having to choose. His best friend, or his son.” The deity got back to his feet.

“Your precious brother will live another day, Technoblade,” he announced before examining the Piglin. He must have noticed the way Techno was pressing his hand firmly against his wound, trying to contain the bleeding, because he continued: “You, though?” He hummed, “I guess we will see.”

The God was quiet as he bent down to take his axe, swinging it above his head and resting it on his shoulders.

“It would also be fun to see what Phil will do once his best friend has died of his own hubris.” He laughed. “The possibilities are endless.”

Dream looked at him another time, and Techno bared his teeth.

“Well. I hope to see you again, Technoblade.”

Techno blinked and the God was gone. The Piglin allowed himself to let out a relieved sigh and he moved to let his head fall back in the snow. The blood continued dripping slowly into the snow as Techno stared into the cloudless sky.

He thought about the fight: of how it had felt to battle a God, of the fear that had gripped his heart at the moment Dream had swung his axe for the first time. He thought about all the openings he hadn’t seen and all the hits he could have avoided. He chuckled mirthlessly. This was not a battle he had ever been meant to win.

He slowly moved his hand from his chest, releasing the pressure he had been keeping against the open wound. He winced when the blood started pouring more freely and re-centered his attention on the sky.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining on the tundra and he could hear the birds singing in the trees. It wasn’t a good day to die.

It was never a good day to die.

Technoblade let a smile grace his lips.

His vision became blurry and he almost did not notice the black wings when they appeared in the blue sky. He distractedly heard the flapping of the wings as something landed near him. His ears felt fuzzy and he listened to the drumming of his own heart. He heard a shout and felt a hand shaking his shoulder. He was so, so tired. He closed his eyes. A scream, and then something being pressed against his wound. It was painful and got a small wince out of him.

“Techno!” he heard, “Techno, please!”

He liked that voice, Techno thought. He felt safe around it.

He allowed himself to fall asleep.


	11. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lack of update yesterday! It was a really busy one. Here is chapter 11, though, with the aftermath of Techno trying to fight a God. 
> 
> Here we start a very long conversation with some people finally hearing the explanations they were owed.   
> And we've got more Tommy and Techno being brothers! :)
> 
> Enjoy!

The fire crackled in the chimney and Techno let out a pained moan as he tried to sit up.

Phil was by his side in a second, gently pushing him back on the couch.

“Don’t stand,” he chided, “You’ll reopen your wounds. Tommy and I didn’t spend hours fixing you up for you to ruin our hard work.” Techno tensed.

“Tommy? He’s still here?”

A blond head appeared from the basement and Techno pretended not to feel fond when he saw the relieved smile on his brother’s lips.

“Techno!” the boy said, hurrying to his side. The Piglin reached a hand to ruffle the dirty blond hair.

“Hey.” They looked at each other for a long time, their eyes communicating everything that they couldn’t say. The fear Tommy had felt to lose Techno. The worry that had bitten through Techno’s stomach for the entirety of the fight. The despair that had struck Tommy when Techno hadn’t come back. The care they felt toward each other.

“I can’t believe that you lost,” Tommy said with a forced laugh, “He really just kicked your arse, didn’t he?”

“Be careful with your words, brat. Even wounded, I can still beat you up easily.” Tommy grinned in challenge.

“I’d like to see that. You can’t fucking leave the couch!” Techno stared at him.

“And yet…” He made to sit up and Tommy scampered away with a shriek.

“You’re making the right decision to run away,” Techno threatened, a smile sneaking its way on his lips.

“I’m not scared of you, you bitch!”

“Boys,” Phil interrupted with a chuckle, putting a bowl of soup in front of Techno, “Both of you calm down or I will have to intervene.”

Techno pouted.

“You are no fun, Philza Minecraft.”

Phil’s smile faded and he sat down near Techno, throwing his best friend a concerned look.

“So…” he asked, “What happened there, mate?” Techno sighed heavily.

“You are really no fun, Phil.” The older man gave him  _ a look _ and Techno sighed again, reaching to grab the bowl of soup.

“Dream came,” he said, “He wanted to take Tommy back. I didn’t want him to take Tommy back. We fought. I lost. That’s it.”

Phil’s gaze flickered between fondness and worry.

“And you thought that fighting a God was a good idea why?” Techno shrugged.

“I didn’t see a lot of other options.” Phil bit his lip and buried his head in his hands.

“Shit, Techno, don’t– Don’t pull that again. Don’t- I thought I was going to watch you bleed out right in front of me.” Techno tried a small smile.

“Technoblade never dies, Phil.”

“Don’t joke about this!” the other man ordered, “Techno, I almost lost my best friend!” Techno opened his mouth to protest, to clarify that he wasn’t joking, but the hurt on Phil’s face convinced him to let the man continue. “You were bleeding out and unresponsive– I carried you to your house and I found my son hyperventilating in a fucking box! Do you know how that feels, Techno?”

The Piglin grimaced and looked away.

“Not good,” Phil spat. “Not fucking good, mate.”

“Phil, I’m sorry…” Techno tried.

The older man seemed to snap out, looking at Techno’s concerned expression and Tommy’s fearful eyes. His wings dropped in guilt.

“No, I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I caused this all. I brought this upon us.” 

Tommy pipped up at those words, voice shy and hesitant. Nothing like he had been a few minutes ago. Techno’s heart filled with  _ hurt _ and  _ anger _ and he felt the voices roar for vengeance again.

“You didn’t, Phil,” the boy corrected, “Dream did…” Phil shook his head.

“You don’t understand.” Something flashed in Tommy’s eyes – irritation. Anger, maybe.

“You’re right, I don’t. You and Techno won’t say a damn thing to me. You’re leaving me in the dark to figure things out for myself. I had to see Techno come back half-dead from a battle with a God and stitch him back up, and no one will tell me what the fuck happened, or why, or how you got there in the first place!” Techno closed his eyes, rubbing at his temples.

“You’re a child, Tommy.” His voice was incredibly tender, though, far from the insulting or teasing tone he and Wilbur usually used when they pronounced those words. Those words were protective. Tommy was a child and so Techno and Phil had to protect him from the evils of the world.

“I haven’t been a child for a long time, Techno,” Tommy spat bitterly. “I wasn’t a child when Dream blew up everything I owned and manipulated me into thinking he was my friend. I wasn’t a child when you unleashed Withers on my city. I wasn’t a child when I had to see my father kill my brother.” Techno’s head snapped to Phil and he almost yelled at Tommy to stop when he saw the pain on the older man’s face. He didn’t though, because it was clear that there was a lot weighting on Tommy’s heart, and the boy had to express it all. “I wasn’t a child when I considered jumping…” Tommy finished, and Phil let out a broken whine.

Techno waited a beat, giving Phil an opportunity to respond, but the man was clearly too lost in his pain at the realization that he’d almost lost his son to suicide.

The voices roared in his head, demanding blood, demanding vengeance, and Techno so desperately wanted to give it to them.

“Okay,” he murmured instead, trying to keep his voice calm, “Okay. You’re not a child.” The boy glared at him, crossing his arms. He looked so small in Techno’s clothes – the clothes he had borrowed because Dream had burned everything else down – and Techno almost changed his mind about the words that followed. “You deserve to know.”

Phil’s head snapped up, his eyes wide.

“What? No!” Techno looked at his oldest friend and they exchanged a look.

“Phil, he deserves to know,” Techno insisted, staring into his friend’s eyes. “So did Will. We should have told them long ago.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” Phil whispered. Techno shrugged.

“Maybe it wouldn’t have. But they deserved to know why Dream came after them.” Tommy frowned in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded to know, “Dream hates me and Wilbur because we created L’Manberg…”

Phil let out a broken laugh and he patted the seat next to him, encircling his arms around Tommy when the boy came close enough.

“Dream couldn’t care less about L’Manberg,” he said gently. Tommy furrowed his eyebrow.

“No, he does!” he protested, “This is the source of everything! He hates us because Will tried to create an independent nation!” Phil laughed again.

“Trust me, Tommy, he doesn’t care.”

“How do you know, then? Why would you know?” Techno watched as Phil swallowed thickly.

“I was his servant.” Tommy froze in his father’s arms. “I know him better than anyone here.” Tommy shrugged Phil’s arms off him and moved toward Techno, unconsciously seeking his protection. The Piglin gave Phil a small, reassuring smile.

“Was?” Tommy demanded to know.

“Was,” Techno confirmed in his gruff voice, “He couldn’t be farther from serving him, now, Tommy.”

The boy’s eyes flickered between the two men, clearly trying to complete the puzzle with the little information he was given.

“I don’t understand,” he said, visibly bracing himself off for the teasing remark that never failed to come when he admitted to his lack of knowledge. It didn’t come. Techno simply looked at him and Phil raised a hesitant hand toward him.

Techno turned to his friend and Phil gave him a simple shrug, consenting to letting Techno explain everything.

“Fine,” Techno said lowly, shifting on the couch, “I have to tell you a story, Tommy. A Greek myth.” Tommy shook his head.

“I don’t like those.” Phil sighed and pressed a hand to Tommy’s shoulder.

“Listen to this one, Toms.”

Techno gave the man a grateful smile and he put the bowl of soup back on the table. He stared into the fire as he started speaking.


	12. Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to update yesterday! Apologies, again!!
> 
> I can't begin to tell you the relief I felt when I got to this chapter. I'm certain most of y'all have caught on the story, of course, but this is when I was finally able to lay it down and make it all clear. It felt GREAT. I am 100% ready to rant about Sophocles, so I'm going to stop this chapter note before it does actually happen.
> 
> Also we get some Ghostbur, and that's always a treat!
> 
> Enjoy!

Technoblade spoke for hours, until his voice was hoarse and his throat was sore.

He spoke of Gods and anger, of heresy and punishment, of family and pain.

He told Tommy of Sophocles. He narrated the story of Antigone, Ismene, Eteocles, and Polynices and he described the way each of them died for their father’s sin.

He related the way the Gods manipulated the two brothers into a fratricide, the way Antigone fought to offer her brother a worthy burial, the way Ismene tried to calm the tensions. The way Antigone hanged herself, the way her fiancé impaled himself on his own sword, the way Ismene survived for years only to be mercilessly stabbed by the Gods’ emissary while her lover ran away.

He explained divine sanctions and the fight between Gods’ laws and humans’ freedom.

He ignored Tommy’s protests when he told him of Sophocles’s conclusion that Gods’ laws primed over everything else and that one couldn’t fight their fate.

Then he shifted the story and told Tommy of the way two men defied a God. He told him of Gods’ servants and the way hubris was their downfall. He told him of the Antarctic Empire. He told him of gains and losses.

He explained Phil’s wings, and he explained his own tusks and his incredible strength. He explained Dream’s lust for punishment.

Tommy trembled.

“Why me?”

Techno offered him an incredibly sad smile.

“Because Phil and I– we love you.” Phil nodded and held on Tommy a bit tighter, burying his face in his son’s hair. “We love you and he wants to take away everything we love. We stole his toy, his world, so he wants to take something in return.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t.”

Tommy let out a bitter laugh.

“I really hate your Greek stories.” Techno shrugged.

“I know,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

Tommy shifted a little to hug himself, desperately seeking some comfort from the terrible truth that had been mercilessly revealed to him.

“Is there really nothing we can do?” he asked, and Phil chuckled mirthlessly in his hair.

“You cannot change a God-given fate, Toms.”

“Are you sure?” the boy questioned. Techno answered for Phil.

“I am. Tommy, do you think we didn’t look? Do you think we just accepted it without trying to fight it?”

Tommy’s expression was absolutely crestfallen. More than it had been when Techno and Phil had left their house to go on their adventure, years ago. When they had left Tommy alone with Wilbur and had gone away to fight Gods.

He looked so small, Techno noticed again. He looked so incredibly young and fragile in Phil’s arms, securely wrapped in his wings, and Techno’s stomach burned with the need to protect his baby brother. Tommy didn’t deserve to suffer for a sin he didn’t commit.

And yet, there was nothing they could do.

There was a knock at the door and everyone in the room completely froze. Techno tensed. Dream couldn’t be back already, could he? He tried to sit up and was pushed back into the couch by Phil, who pressed a finger to his lips.

He watched as Phil and Tommy exchanged a look and Tommy scampered downstairs. Phil moved in complete silence, as if his wings were carrying him just above the floor. A second later, a dagger was dropped in Techno’s lap. Phil cupped Techno’s cheek, fear shining in his eyes.

“Stay safe, old friend,” he whispered before moving toward the door.

Techno grimaced in pain as he got to his feet. He would not let Phil fight the God on his own. Phil looked even more afraid when he saw his movements. Clearly, he had hoped to keep Techno’s safe by dragging Dream away from the house.

Techno would not let that happen.

The door shook as the intruder (Dream?) knocked again, a bit louder. Techno and Phil exchanged terrified looks before Phil nodded with a determined expression. They knew what to do. They would defend Tommy to their death.

The door handle jiggled and both men completely froze. Phil’s hand tightened around his sword and Techno readied himself to throw his dagger. The door opened and Techno almost screamed.

Ghostbur.

It was Ghostbur.

“Phil! Techno! Did you not hear me knock?”

Phil looked into his late son’s eyes, face completely pale, and the sword clattered on the floor.

“Oh, is that my sword?” Ghostbur asked as he leaned down, completely oblivious to the fact that the two men – his family – had been about to attack him ferociously.

“Ghostbur, what are you doing here?” Techno asked, wincing when the adrenaline left his body, letting him feel the consequences of having ripped his stitches open. Phil was by his side in a second, supporting him as he sat back down on the couch.

“Can I not visit my family?” the ghost asked, a pout on his lips.

‘Not when a vengeful God is after us,’ Techno wanted to reply. But he knew that Ghostbur wouldn’t understand.

“Of course you can,” he mumbled, “It’s good to see you.” The ghost beamed at him.

“Thank you, Technoblade! Oh, can I bring my friend inside?”

“Your… friend?” Phil repeated, voice full of mistrust. Techno was almost glad to hear it, to be shown that it wasn’t just his own paranoia suggesting that Dream could have manipulated the ghost. Ghostbur was fast to assuage their worry, though:

“Yeah, my Friend! He is a sheep and my best friend in the world!”

Techno relaxed before giving a nod.

“Bring him in.”

Ghostbur gave him another bright smile before skipping outside, coming back a few minutes later with a blue sheep on a lead.

“I heard Wilbur’s voice?” Tommy called from the basement. Ghostbur’s expression brightened even more if possible and he called back:

“Tommy! Come meet my Friend!” He clapped his hands excitedly. “Oh, the whole family is here! This is so nice!”

The cabin was silent for a second before they heard the sound of Tommy climbing the ladder and the boy appeared, his expression a mix of confusion and anger.

“Where have you been?” he asked, and Techno was surprised at the coldness in his voice.

“Tommy!” Ghostbur exclaimed, delighted. He floated toward his brother, not losing his smile. Tommy frowned and shook his head.

“Don’t touch me,” he ordered, “Where were you?” Ghostbur deflated visibly.

“Do you want some Blue?” he asked worriedly.

“I don’t want some fucking Blue, Will,” Tommy growled, “You left me all alone with him!”

Seeing Phil about to intervene, Techno reached out a hand. The older man stopped, throwing Techno a confused expression.

“Leave it,” the Piglin whispered, “He needs to say it.” The expression on Phil’s face told Techno that the man did not like it. Still, they both stayed immobile.

“With him?” Ghostbur repeated. He frowned confusedly. “Don’t you want to meet Friend?”

“No, I don’t want to meet Friend!” Tommy snapped, “Stop ignoring the situation, dammit!” Ghostbur looked like he was about to cry.

“I don’t understand, Tommy…”

“You left me with Dream!” Tommy roared, “You left me alone with him!”

“Isn’t Dream your friend?” the ghost asked with a frown.

“He isn’t,” Tommy spat bitterly, “He really isn’t.” Ghostbur looked at his sheep, floating back to it and petting its wool.

“Dream told me to go on a walk…” Ghostbur said softly, burying his head in the wool. Phil completely froze.

“On a walk?” he repeated slowly. The ghost turned to look at his father.

“Yeah, on a walk in the snow!” He paused. “It was pretty, but then I got lost… And the snow hurt me…” Techno furrowed his eyebrows in worry. That was right. Ghostbur got hurt by water. And there was no way Dream didn’t know that. One look at Phil confirmed that the man was thinking the exact same thing.

Dream had tried to kill Wilbur. Again.

Phil grabbed his sword and spread his wings.

“That’s it. This ends now.”

Techno stood up, ignoring the way his entire body cried in protest. He would not let Phil endanger himself. He would fight Dream again before he let that happen.

“Phil, back away from the door,” he growled.

“I have to do it,” Phil protested, “I’m the one who caused all of this.”

“We both did.” Phil shook his head.

“I did. I was his servant and I betrayed him. He wants me to pay for it.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Techno warned lowly.

“This is not stupid,” Phil replied, “This is the decision I should have taken a long time ago.” Techno shook his head desperately. He knew that if Phil actually tried to leave, he wouldn’t have the strength to stop him. And he hated it.

“Phil, please…”

“What are you guys talking about?” Tommy asked, his voice reflecting the panic that was starting to rise in his stomach.

“Phil is about to do something incredibly stupid,” Techno responded in a bitter voice.

“I’m not. I’m about to save you all.”

“Tommy,” Techno instructed carefully, “Tommy get in front of this door and do  _ not _ let him through.” Phil sighed.

“Techno, you’re being selfish.”

“I’m being selfish?” Techno repeated, starting to feel hysterical, “I’m being selfish? What do you think will happen when you die, Phil? Do you think that he is going to just give up on us?” Phil opened his mouth to respond. “No. No, don’t say anything.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Do you know what good Oedipus’s death did? None. The Gods still slaughtered his children one by one.” Phil closed his eyes.

“That's unfair. This is not the same thing.”

“How is it not, Phil?” Techno asked, cursing at the way his voice trembled, “How is it different?”

Phil clenched his hands into fists.

“I can’t let him take you all.” The two men were quiet for a long time, before Phil let go of his sword. Techno opened his arms and Phil slowly walked back to him, burying his head in the Piglin’s shoulder. “He can’t take you from me.”

“Then we won’t let him,” Techno whispered, wrapping his arms around the man.

And they knew that it was much, much more complicated than that. But for now, they decided that it would suffice.


	13. Shaking Hands with the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> So something, Not Great is about to happen at 4 pm EST (AKA the fandom's favourite boy visiting a Very Bad Green Man) and I wish I could give you all some soothing chapter and happy family but instead all I have to offer is more pain. Probably the tensest chapter of this fic (except maybe for the Techno/Dream fight earlier).  
> Fun Fact, "Shaking Hands with the Devil", the title of this chapter, is also the name of the next fic I'll start uploading once I am done with this one :)  
> We are getting soooo close to the end!!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the chapter!!

“Are you here for a rematch, Technoblade?”

Dream’s tone was low and excited, and so, so dangerous.

“I’m not,” Techno replied. “I’m here to beg for mercy.”

He had left the cabin when everyone was still asleep, silently stepping around the living room and towards the front door. He had smiled fondly at the way Tommy slept, safely curled up in Phil’s wings. Ghostbur was snoring peacefully, his head buried in Friend’s wool. He had frozen up when Phil shifted in his sleep, getting ready to bolt if the man opened his eyes. He hadn’t though, and Techno had fought the disappointment in his chest. He didn’t want Phil to wake up, didn’t want his best friend to argue against his decision, didn’t want the man to show concern and try to stop his plan. So it had been fine, and Techno had sneaked away in complete secrecy.

He refocused his attention on Dream who had tilted his head curiously.

“Oh?” The God asked, not bothering to hide the curiosity and amusement in his voice. “You want to beg, Technoblade?”

Techno clenched his jaw and nodded, hating the way the God seemed to tower over him, despite there not being a difference in their size. Dream had all the power in the situation, and he knew it. He was the puppet master and Techno was just a toy. Dream chuckled lowly, aware that he held all the cards in his hands.

“A servant of the Blood God begging for me…” he commented, clearly very satisfied with the situation. He looked at Techno up and down before he spoke again, his voice dripping with malice. “On your knees.”

The voices screamed in Techno’s head as he let himself drop down, his knees hitting the cold ground. He looked down and clenched his jaw, staring at the snow below him. He refused to meet eyes with the deity in front of him. Even in a position of submission, Technoblade would not let Dream see the despair in his eyes. The God did not let him have that, though, did not let him keep an ounce of pride. His chin was roughly grabbed, and he was forced to turn his face toward the smiling mask.

He felt Dream’s smile widen behind his mask as he glared at the God.

“None of that, Technoblade,” he chided, “You are here to beg, not defy me.” He let go of Techno’s chin but the Piglin knew better than to look away from his enemy.

He stayed quiet though, boring his eyes into the God’s, remaining in stubborn silence. Dream chuckled lowly.

“I’m waiting, Technoblade,” he announced, a warning in his voice, “If I decide that your begging is not entertaining enough, I might become  _ bored _ . And who knows what I would do if I do become bored? I could find myself wandering around a certain wooden cabin…”

“Don’t you dare,” the Piglin growled. Dream chuckled again; only this time, it sounded impatient.

“That was not a plea.”

Techno glared. The voices screamed in anger when he licked his lips nervously and started speaking:

“I’m coming to propose a deal.” Dream let out a low hum.

“Still not begging…” he sang in a teasing tone. Techno rolled his eyes.

“I am  _ begging you _ to consider a deal.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, the Piglin not bothering to hide the hatred he felt toward the God.

Techno did not see Dream’s hand move. Only one second, he was staring at the God’s mask, and the next he was on the ground, his entire body screaming in pain. He felt the recently scarred wound start bleeding again and he let out a low curse, going for his sword. Dream’s foot was on his hand before it could brush the hilt of his weapon and Techno let out a cry. The God pressed – hard.

“I am waiting for you to  _ beg _ for me, Technoblade.”

Techno clenched his eyes shut, hating the whine that fought its way past his lips.

“Please,” he choked out, “Please, leave them alone.”

The foot left his hand but Dream barely stepped back, remaining where he was, a looming threat above Techno’s body.

“Now, why would I do that?” Dream asked, teasing, “Your family has to pay for your sins. You should know that.”

“Take me instead,” Techno offered in a hurry, “Take me and leave them alone.”

Dream laughed.

“Technoblade,” he cooed, crouching so that he could look at the man, “Technoblade, I thought you were smarter than this.” He reached a hand to card his finger through Techno’s hair, roughly undoing his braid. Techno shivered at the touch. “I don’t care about your life or Phil’s,” he admitted in a dangerous whisper, “I want to see you both suffer. You defied me and so you have to suffer the consequences.”

“I will-” Techno replied immediately, “I will. This is what I’m proposing.” The hand in his hair stilled for a fraction of a second.

“What are you proposing?” Techno knew this was his opportunity. And that he could not afford a failure. His family could not afford a failure.

“My soul,” he breathed out, “My soul in exchange for their safety.”

The hand left his hair and Dream was quiet for a moment. Techno took it as a sign that the God was surprised and dared to hope that the God would consider it.

“Your soul?” Dream repeated, his voice cajoling now, “Now, what would I do with your soul, Technoblade?” Techno clenched his hands into fists.

“When I die,” he said, his voice cracking at the words, “When I die, my entire… being will belong to you.”

Dream shifted away from Techno and stood back up.

“It could belong to me now,” he reminds the Piglin in a calm – too calm – voice. “If I decide so, you will become my weapon, Blade. If I order so, you will slaughter your family for me.” Techno felt the smile widen behind the God’s mask. “I would make you start with the ghost. You’d kill him in front of the kid, to show them all how serious I am. Then, I’d have you take care of the kid, too. Let them rest together in death. A precious little family. And then, once you’re done, you could go for Phil. Let him see what you’ve done with his precious sons, let him cry over their corpse, and then stab him, the same way he stabbed one of his owns.” Techno shook his head and looked down, refusing to show Dream the flash of fear in his eyes.

“That’s a good plan,” he said slowly, “But you’d be missing something.”

Dream tilted his head in the way Techno had learned to despise.

“I think this would be a perfect way to enact my punishment, Technoblade. What do you think I’d be missing?”

“You wouldn’t break me,” Techno offered, and he almost let out a sigh of relief at the way Dream’s head snapped toward him at the words, showing attention. “You would kill them all, but I would resist you until the very end. You’d never control me.” He hesitated before he continued, deciding that he had to stack all the odds in his favor: “I’d remain His servant.” Dream cursed and Techno knew he had hit right.

“The Blood God is a low God,” Dream spat, “A minor God. He hasn’t earned the right to a weapon like you.” Techno noticed the shift between ‘ _ servant _ ’ and ‘ _ weapon’  _ but chose not to raise it. Phil’s safety depended on this conversation. His brother’s lives depended on it.

“And yet, I serve him,” Techno replied, looking up at Dream, a defiant expression on his face. “Not you. And whatever powers you have, you won’t change my allegiances.” He paused. “Unless…”

The two men went quiet for a long time. They listened to the wind blowing in the deserted tundra. The plain was incredibly quiet, and the sun was barely rising on the horizon.

“Unless…?” Dream eventually repeated.

“Unless you agree to leave them all alone,” Techno said, cursing when his voice broke, too choked up in the emotions that went running through his body. The terror. The rage. The hope. The love toward his family. The devotion. “Give up on your revenge,” he said, “And the moment I die, my soul is yours.” He swallowed thickly. “Forever.”

The word hung between the two of them. Forever.  _ An eternity _ . Nothing for a God, and everything for a mortal.

“Forever,” Dream repeated, “I let your pitiful mortals live, and you promise your soul to me?”

Techno nodded, hating the way Dream’s voice suddenly sounded smooth. Amused. Almost eager.

“I let them live, and you’ll renounce the Blood Good? You’ll belong to me, and me only?”

“As soon as I die,” the Piglin confirmed, “My entire being will be yours only.”

The God took a step back before started to walk around Techno, like a predator, as if he were just examining the merchandise.

“The Blood God doesn’t deserve you,” he commented slowly as he kept moving around. Techno’s senses were on high alert, desperately trying to keep track of the deity’s movement without looking directly at him. “The Antarctic Empire,” he continued, “That was you, wasn’t it?” Techno frowned.

“I formed it,” he clarified, “I came up with the plans we needed to grow.” Dream hummed.

“You led it,” he rephrased, “You led your Empire to victory. And you misled Philza into betraying me.”

Techno tensed. Suddenly, his proposal seemed so ridiculous. The God wanted vengeance against the men who had stood up to him and defied him. And Dream was so extremely furious against him. He was right – Techno had been the instigator of the Empire. He had caused it all. He had brought this terrible fate upon his family.

“I did.”

“Excellent,” Dream declared, making Techno’s head snapped toward him in surprise. “Not only a brute force that could rival Gods’ but also a strategic mind to control armies and destroy nations.” He let out a very low laugh. “I am going to have so much fun with you, Technoblade.” Techno widened his eyes.

Did that mean-?

“Promise yourself to me, Technoblade,” The God ordered, “Promise me your soul.”

The voices in his head  _ screamed  _ in protest, almost drowning out the God’s voice. Technoblade was a servant of the Blood God. He couldn’t promise himself to any other God. This was  _ treason _ . This wasn’t  _ permitted. _

Techno ignored the voices. He stood up, knowing that the pledge required a solemnity they wouldn’t achieve if he were bleeding out in the snow.

“As soon as I die,” he repeated, holding onto his wound, “As soon as I die, I will grant you my soul. And full control over it.”

“Say it,” Dream taunted, but his voice held an exhilaration Techno had never heard in the God’s voice.

“I promise my soul to you, God of Chaos,” he recited. His ears rang as he continued speaking the sacred words – words in a language he didn’t understand but had known his entire life. Words that promised Dream ownership over his body and his mind, his will, and his purpose. The voices slowly faded as he kept speaking the forbidden words, no longer protesting but rather witnessing the act in appalled silence.

Upon finishing the incantation, Technoblade looked up to the God to whom he had promised his soul. He took a step back at the way Dream’s entire mask was now shining brightly, rivaling the sun itself. The light was only there for a few instants, though, and it soon flickered out, leaving the two men in obscurity.

“It is done,” Dream said, solemn – almost intensely so, “It is done. Your soul will belong to me, Technoblade.” Techno swallowed thickly and nodded.

“It will,” he confirmed in a completely neutral tone. Dream chuckled lightly and he moved toward the Piglin.

“Don’t sound so dejected,” he teased, “After all, you have spared your family.” He turned around Techno. “I shall not touch them.”

There was a beat of silence and then the God burst out laughing, scaring Techno to his core. Dream sounded exalted.

“What have you done?” Techno asked – a growl.

“Nothing,” Dream responded with a manic chuckle, “You did it all. You gave me your soul, Technoblade. You gave yourself to me.” The Piglin stared at the God, ready to bolt. “Oh, what will the Angel of Death do, when he realizes that he has doomed his best friend to an eternity serving Chaos?” Dream’s cold hand caressed Techno’s cheek and the man had to repress a movement backward. “What will he do when he finds out that he couldn’t protect you? That you sacrificed your very being for him?” Another cackle rang, loud and crazy. “This is perfect.”

The hand on Techno’s cheek faded away and the God disappeared. His presence remained though. And the Piglin heard the deity’s voice resonate through the deserted tundra.

“The divine punishment has been served.”


	14. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second-to-last chapter!! We are soooo close!
> 
> This is a pretty soft one, though full of angst in the background. I really really enjoy writing Phil and Techno's relationship; it's just incredible SOFT. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this one!

“The winds have changed,” Phil said as a greeting when Techno arrived back to the cabin.

“Jee, Phil, way to sound ominous,” Techno teased, dropping his cloak on the couch.

“I'm not joking, Techno. What have you done?” The Piglin met his best friend's eyes and swallowed thickly. Phil's eyes reflected the pain and the concern the man was feeling. Phil had always worn his heart on his sleeve, had always been too easy to read.

“Phil-“

“Don't lie to me, Techno. Don't try to reassure me or sugarcoat things. Where were you?” 

He didn't continue, but the next questions ‘Where was Dream?’ ‘Were you with him?’ floated between them, uncomfortable, loud, impossible to ignore. Techno sighed.

“You're going to be mad.”

“That depends,” Phil responded very calmly, “Did you do something that would warrant me being mad?” He asked the question, but it was clear in his tone that he already knew the answer.

"Where are the kids?" Techno asked instead of replying.

“Outside,” Phil sighed. It was obvious that he had not fallen for Techno’s blatant attempt at changing the topic. And yet, he indulged him. “Tommy’s checking out on the bees and Wilbur is…” He shrugged. “He is doing whatever he does, those days. Walking Friend, I think.”

“Ghostbur,” Techno corrected in a soft voice, “Ghostbur, Phil. Not Will.” Phil tensed uncomfortably and he looked away.

“I allowed you to change the topic. Don’t I deserve the same kindness?” Techno didn’t follow Phil’s strained laughter.

“Phil, you have to let yourself mourn,” he tried quietly, “You have to let him go. This isn’t healthy.” Phil shook his head.

“He is still my son,” he whispered, his voice barely conceding the grief he felt. Techno furrowed his eyebrows. He had been so focused on Tommy’s clear mental distress that he had missed Phil’s.

“This isn’t fair to him,” he said gently, “Or to yourself, for that matter.”

Phil fell into complete silence, refusing to meet Techno’s eyes. He had moved to the window and, after a moment of hesitation, Techno joined him. They looked at the snowy plains that seemed to extend forever. 

Tommy had visibly moved from his observation of the bees and was now cutting down some of the spruce trees. He seemed to have energy to spare – or perhaps he was attempting to lose himself into menial tasks. Techno chose not to address it yet. Tommy didn’t seem in any direct distress. And besides, he had Ghostbur by his side. The ghost was chatting away, floating around the trees and leading Friend behind him. Every so often, Tommy would look from his work, wipe the sweat off his forehead, and quip something back to Ghostbur’s endless chatter. The ghost would grin and Tommy would laugh, loud and boisterous, and so  _ Tommy _ .

“They’ll heal,” Techno said, refusing to let his voice sound as fond as he felt, “You should let yourself heal too. I can take you to his grave; maybe it will help.”

Phil shrugged silently and they refocused their attention on the scene outside. Friend had approached enough to start nibbling Tommy’s shirt. As soon as the boy noticed, he jumped back, letting go of his axe, and yelled toward Ghostbur, something angry and so reminiscent of the play-arguments he and Wilbur used to have. Arguments that ended in Tommy pouting, fighting a smile, and Wilbur laughing frankly. Ghostbur reacted with surprise before coming to Tommy, floating around him fast, teasing, as the boy tried to reach him.

“Phil,” Techno insisted, “You have to heal. For them.”

“What about you?” Phil asked, and Techno closed his eyes for a second. Of course. He couldn’t distract Phil forever. He couldn’t even pretend to try, not when he and Phil could read each other like open books. He shrugged.

“What about me, indeed.”

“Techno.” Phil’s voice was firm. Unwavering. He wouldn’t let him escape the question now. Techno made a half-smile. Phil deserved to know.

“Do you know about  _ Faust _ , Phil?” he asked lightly. Phil frowned.

“I am not in the mood for literature, mate,” he replied, “Not today.” Both of them knew that Techno’s comparisons to literary pieces were just a way for him to avoid speaking problems directly.

“I am.”

“Of course you are,” Phil sighed, “When are you not?” Techno smirked.

“The other day, when I fought Dream, he spoke about  _ The Life of Theseus _ and Lycomedes, and I didn’t feel like discussing it.” Phil stared.

“I don’t know whether to address the fact that you fought a God or that you talked about classical literature with him.”

“Pscht,” Techno snorted, “The guy barely knows his stuff. He has stolen the Theseus metaphor from me and won’t let it go. A little bit of variety would be appreciated, once in a while.”

Phil looked like he was debating crying, yelling, or abandoning the conversation altogether. Techno selfishly hoped for the third alternative.

“Can’t you be serious?” he asked. Techno hummed.

“I’ve been plenty serious for a long time, Phil. And you’re the one who won’t listen to my story.”

Phil let out a very long sigh, the kind that usually escaped him when Techno and Wilbur were fighting over something silly and mundane, like Wilbur having stolen a shirt from the Piglin.

“Fine,” he said, “I give up. Tell me your story.”

Techno’s smile fell from his lips. He knew he wouldn’t escape the conversation forever, that Phil would eventually convince him to speak. So he spoke.

He told Phil of a man who had surrendered his moral integrity in exchange for divine knowledge and a chance at genuine bliss. He told him of deals with the Devil and promised souls. He told him of the very slow downfall of a man who knew that Hell was the only thing awaiting him.

Phil stared, dumbfounded, incredulous.

“You didn’t…” he started. He stopped at the grim expression on Techno’s face. “Techno,  _ what did you do _ ?”

It wasn’t a question anymore – it was a plea. A plea for Techno to disavow it all, to reassure him that he’d never be reckless enough to make a pact with a malevolent being like Dream.

“He won’t touch any of you,” Techno promised firmly, “Never again.”

Phil shook his head, stunned. He took a step back.

“Techno, you didn’t…” The Piglin shrugged.

“I tried to fight him, Phil, and I had to see that it wasn’t the right way to protect you all.”

Phil shook his head again and Techno noticed the way the man’s shoulders tensed and his jaw clenched. He felt, more than he heard, the growl in the man’s throat. Phil was  _ furious _ .

“What the  _ fuck _ , Techno?” he spat. “We were in this  _ together _ . We were meant to decide  _ together _ . What the fuck did you do? You sneaked out while I was sleeping and… and what? Made a deal with him? You should know you can’t trust him!”

He clenched his eyes close and shook his head again.

“I can’t- I can’t do this, Techno.”

Techno made to move, and Phil looked up, glaring at him.

“Do not move, Technoblade,” he ordered, and the Piglin froze completely. He was once again reminded of Phil’s raw power. Of the fact that the human could rival his own strength without breaking a sweat. Phil’s wings shivered with righteous anger, reflecting the state of mind of their owner who had locked his eyes with Techno, daring him to take a step forward.

“Can it be voided?” he asked, his voice cold – and Techno felt the hint of desperation hidden in it. He chuckled.

“Phil, you can’t just cancel a deal with the Devil.”

“Don’t laugh,” Phil snapped, “Don’t laugh about that!” He stared at him, full of incomprehension, and the anger fell slightly. “How can you laugh about that?”

Techno shrugged.

“Would you rather I cried, Phil?” Phil closed his eyes again, burying his face in his hands.

“You are  _ impossible _ .” He paused before continuing. “I regret what I said about you being controlled chaos. You are the worst out of the three of you. Tommy and Wilbur might have started wars, but they didn’t make a  _ deal with the fucking Devil _ .” Another chuckle escaped him.

“Ouch, Phil,” he replied, holding a hand to his heart, “I’ve sold my soul to save you all and you tell me that I am worse than Tommy?”

“The  _ absolute worst _ ,” Phil replied, letting out a hiccup. “Can’t fucking leave you unsupervised for one night.” Techno laughed again.

“You love me.”

“I do,” Phil replied, and his voice was genuine and so, so sad, “I do, Techno. What am I going to do without you? What am I supposed to do?” Techno hummed nonchalantly.

“Fly around?” he suggested, “Expand the bee farm? Teach Tommy how to take care of the turtles?” He shrugged, “Hell, maybe even go rescue Tubbo. The kid isn’t that bad.”

Phil shook his head and he reached a hand to hold onto Techno’s arms.

“You’re supposed to do all those things with me.”

“You’re being sappy again, Phil,” Techno teased.

“Techno, for the love of- Shut up. Stop being witty for once in your life.”

“Ouch,” Techno deadpanned again, “Phil, you should really be nicer to the person who saved us all.” Phil didn’t even bother dignifying that with an answer and he let his head fall on Techno’s chest, leaving it there for a few moments, listening to the Piglin’s heart.

“When is he coming to… to collect your soul?”

Techno shrugged nonchalantly again, and he wrapped an arm around Phil, resting his chin on the man’s head.

“When I’m dead,” he deadpanned.

“When you’re dead?” Phil repeated, “So I have to just…” He chuckled, “I have to live in fear of the moment you’ll die, because I know he will come take you?”

Techno held onto his best friend a bit tighter. He thought of everything they had lived through together. He thought of the cruelness of the Nether and the kindness of Phil’s open hand. He thought of the tournaments they had taken part in when they were both still young and full of hope. He thought of the house they had shared once he’d finally met Wilbur and Tommy. He thought of the quiet nights and their hushed discussions and their dreams of grandeur. He thought of the Antarctic Empire and their excitement at every milestone they completed. He thought of how much he loved Phil. Of how much he adored him.

“Phil,” he called softly, “I have to tell you a story.”

The man tensed in his arms.

“I really,  _ really _ don’t want to hear one of your stories, Techno,” he spoke, voice barely hiding the silent sobs he’d been repressing.

“You’ll like this one,” Techno said, “I promise.”

Phil sniffed and his hand moved from Techno’s arm and came to hold a bit of his shirt instead. He kept his face hidden in the Piglin’s chest, and Techno had never wanted anything less than to dislodge him.

“Dammit you,” Phil cursed, letting out a wet laugh, “I can’t refuse you anything and you know it. You’ve always taken advantage of it.”

“What can I say,” Techno drawled, “I’m selfish like that.” He paused before gently nudging the man. “But seriously, Phil. Hear me out.”

Phil’s head moved against Techno’s torso in a gesture he chose to see as a nod.

So Techno started speaking.


	15. Fate (Reprise)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand, there we are! Fifteen chapters later, here is our conclusion! 
> 
> I will meet you all at the end of the chapter, for more some concluding thoughts!
> 
> Enjoy!

For the first time in his life, Techno told a story that he hadn’t learnt in books.

He told Phil  _ his  _ story.

They sat on the couch, Phil wrapped in Techno’s arms. In a way, the position was so reminiscent of the one they used to adopt years ago, when Techno could still fit in Phil’s embrace, safe and warm. When Phil was the one to tell stories to Techno, stories about the worlds he had seen as he’d flown over them.

The fire in the chimney had died for a very long time but neither man wanted to pull away from the embrace to go revive it. So they sat in the dark, enveloped in each other’s warmth, and Techno spoke.

Techno told the story of a small Piglin, lost in the Nether, abandoned by his clan. He talked about the fear of gigantic ghosts that could destroy him with one scream, and that of the tall dark creatures who would kill him if he looked in their direction. He admitted to the loneliness.

Phil shifted a little and rested his head on Techno’s chest, right next to his heart.

“You’re not alone anymore,” he whispered.

“I know,” Techno said, his lungs filling with the fondness he felt toward his best friend, almost stopping him from breathing.

He held onto the man a bit tighter.

He told Phil of something worse than loneliness. Of something much worse than the silence. He told him about the voices.

Of course, Phil knew about the voices. He had been the one to whisper gently to Techno and bring him back to reality when the voices became too loud. He had been the one to hold him when the voices’ demand for blood, like a tsunami, threatened to drown everything in their wake.

Phil had almost fallen victim to the voices' lust for blood, in the first few months of their friendship, before the voices recognized the winged man as  _ theirs _ .

Neither man could forget Phil's tight grip onto Techno's wrists as the Piglin snarled and trashed, unable to ignore the voices' order to pay tribute to his God,  _ now _ , or Phil's hurried assurance that Techno hadn't been himself as the Piglin painstakingly bandaged Phil's torso. They would never forget the guilt.

What Phil didn’t know about the voices was when they arrived. And why. And what they had whispered at first.

_ Blood for the Blood God _ , they had chanted,  _ Blood for the Blood God. Join Him. Draw Blood. Spill Blood. _

At first, Techno had ignored them, of course, because he was a simple Piglin, alone in a hellish dimension, convinced that he wouldn’t live to see his tusks grow.

But the voices had continued, relentless, persistent, louder and louder every day.

_ Join Him. Join Him. Join Him _ .  _ Join Him. Blood for the Blood God. _

So eventually, Techno had started talking to them. Responding. Asking questions.

The first time he had killed for them – for Him – it had been a mere boar. Techno had cornered it at the bottom of a cliff and had merciless brought his axe down until the beast had ceased to twitch.

It had been a simple kill, but the voices had chanted in euphoria, loud and ecstatic about the violence they had incited.

_ Blood for the Blood God. Blood for the Blood God. Blood for the Blood God. _

But then they had fallen quiet, sated, satisfied with the tribute to their God. And Techno had appreciated the silence, for the first time in weeks.

So it had become a habit. When the voices started being too loud to ignore, too overwhelming, Techno worked to spot the closest living creature, usually indolent and unsuspecting. And he sacrificed it to the voices’ God.

To his God.

Techno wasn’t certain when exactly he had started thinking about the voices’ God as his God. But he knew when that became a truth. And he told Phil about it.

He glanced over the details of a regrettable swing of his axe and the angry screeches that resonated in the otherwise silent Nether. He chose not to speak of the fear that had devoured him when monsters that wore his face swarmed him, blinded by rage and the desire to avenge their fallen comrade.

He didn’t speak of it but, judging by the way Phil tensed in his arms, the human guessed it all.

Voice hoarse, Techno recalled awaiting the cold embrace of death. He told Phil about the quietness of the Basalt Delta and the certitude that he would either bleed out on the carpet of ashes or fall victim to a Ghast’s fireball, unable as he was to dodge it.

“But you didn’t die…” Phil said quietly. Techno nodded and closed his eyes.

He recalled the voice that had boomed in his head. Different, and yet exactly like the voices. Full of a longing for violence that Techno only could sate. He told Phil of the pure power in the disembodied voice, of the fact that it was only in Techno’s head and yet  _ everywhere _ at once.

It had been the only time Technoblade heard his God.

The Blood God hadn’t pronounced a word and yet Techno had heard them all. He had understood every inflection, every sentiment, as if he had been born to hear them.

As if he had been born to serve Him.

That’s what the God had told him. That he had been chosen. That he was a faithful servant and a worthy warrior. That it was his fate to serve Him.

Techno had listened, dumbfounded, body propped up on a basalt boulder, blood slowly dripping onto the cold ground.

How could he serve the Blood God if he was dead?

And that’s when the God spoke again, that’s when all the voices started chattering excitedly as they awaited His blessing.

_ Blood for the Blood God. Blood for the Blood God. Blood for the Blood God. _

Technoblade made a pact with the Blood God.

“A pact?” Phil interrupted, seemingly conflicted between laughter and concern, “Another one?”

“You’ll like this one,” Techno said, repeating his words from earlier. “I promise.” Phil shrugged.

“Hit me.”

So Techno told him about the pact he’d made with the Blood God. About the promise to fight and spill blood in His name. About his engagement to train and become a warrior whose strength would rival Gods’. About his oath to serve Him, and Him only, in exchange for His blessing.

“His blessing?”

“Be patient, I’m getting to it.”

Phil’s curiosity would only grow, though, so Techno told him about the other side of the pact. Because pacts had to be fair, and even Gods had to give something to their servants. The same way Phil had received his wings in exchange for his loyalty to Dream, Techno had received a promise from the Blood God. The promise that, for as long as Techno killed in His name, for as long as He received Blood, His servant would be under His protection.

Technoblade would never die.

“Wait–” Techno saw the way the cogs turned in Phil’s mind, the way the puzzle slowly started to make sense. “Wait, Techno–” He looked at the glimmer of hope in Phil’s eyes and made a small nod.

“Techno, you absolute  _ motherfucker _ !”

Techno let out a laugh, loud and happy and oh, so smug.

“You motherfucker!” Phil repeated, “I was afraid for you! I was fucking terrified! You absolute-”

“Technoblade never dies!” the Piglin boomed, his smirk big on his face and his voice loud enough to be heard in the quiet tundra.

The two men sat in silence for a second, Phil’s shoulders shaken by a mix of laughter and relieved sobs, and Techno simply holding his best friend tight. The door slammed open.

“Technoblade will fucking die if he doesn’t make me lunch, now. I am  _ starving _ .”

“Watch your fucking language, Toms,” Phil threatened in a laughing voice that held no threat whatsoever.

Still, Techno dislodged himself from the couch and moved to glance around his provisions.

“Potatoes good?” Tommy rolled his eyes.

“We have potatoes every day,” he groaned, “When can we get something else?”

“When you farm something else, we will have something else,” Techno drawled, not bothering to look at his little brother.

“Oh, farming?” Ghostbur repeated, “I’d love to farm! Tommy, you’ll teach me, won’t you?” He beamed. “I’m sure Friend will help!”

“And if Friend doesn’t help, we can have some mutton for dinner,” Techno deadpanned. He tried not to laugh at Ghostbur’s panicked wail and pretended not to feel proud when he heard Tommy snort.

“Boys-” Phil interrupted from the couch, “Boys, be good for a minute, will you?”

“Can’t tell me what to do, Phil,” Techno automatically responded, bringing them back to the house they had shared years ago – years before the snowy cabin, and years before Dream.

“He can’t tell me what to do either!” Tommy exclaimed, quick to follow. Techno raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, that he can. You’re a child, Tommy. Phil can still decide your bedtime.”

Tommy muttered something that sounded a bit too close to ‘we’ll have pork, then,’ and Techno turned to look at him, still holding the kitchen knife he had been using to cut the potatoes.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing!” Tommy exclaimed, quickly moving to stand on the other side of the couch, protected by Phil. Techno exchanged a look with his old friend and almost dropped everything when he saw the genuine happiness in the blue eyes. Phil looked happy, for the first time in months – in years, and Techno knew he would give up everything again if it would make the joy shining in his best friend’s eyes last forever.

They kept joking during lunch, Techno stating something in a deadpanning voice, Tommy replying in indignant yells, and Phil pretending to try to calm down the chaos. Ghostbur fit in seamlessly, laughing at the right time and teasing Tommy with the same gentleness that Wilbur had always shown. Techno’s heart felt full.

When Tommy decided to go back outside to check on the turtles, quickly followed by Ghostbur and Friend, Phil and Techno walked to the windows. They observed in silence as the ghost tackled Tommy onto the snow, ignoring the boy’s protests.

They were quiet for a few more minutes before Phil broke the silence. They were fine; they were out of danger, but there was still something left unsaid.

“You know he’ll come back, right?” he said lowly, “You know he won’t like that you tricked him…” Techno shrugged.

“I’m curious to see what he’ll do. He promised not to touch any of you. Can’t come back on it.”

Phil frowned and squeezed Techno’s shoulder.

“He could hurt you, though,” he reminded him, “He made no promises against that.” Techno hummed, and he leaned a little in Phil’s hold, letting the human wrap a wing around him.

For the first time in years, he wasn’t afraid. His family was safe, his family was  _ happy _ , and the Blood God was supporting him.

“I’ll be ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh, I'm really emotional now!
> 
> Shoutout to all of the commenters, y'all really made my days! Special note to RyanDoesA03 and Annie_Dz who both called the "Technoblade never dies" plot and had me frantically text my writing buddy, Kim, in a panic.  
> Shoutout to Kim, by the way, who peer-pressured me into having this written. 
> 
> My next work is going to also include Gods, but with a focus on Phil's relationship with Dream following the execution debacle. I hope to see you all there. The fic's nickname is Pheral (Feral Phil, you get it?) and I'm most likely going to start publishing it tomorrow or in the next few days :)
> 
> Thanks again for reading! <3 Hope you enjoyed!


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